."-':^iS^d?JM^i^^4^4vi*v , r. 'i.%v. , 'M^iiL^ .<^^m:'l 




THE WAR WHOOP. 



THE 



OEEGON TRAIL 

SKETCHES 



OF 



PRAIRIE AND ROCKY-MOUNTAIN LIFE 



BY 

FRANCIS PARKMAN 



author's edition 



>7 ^ ^ ' 



BOSTON 
LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 

1894 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, bN' 

FRANCIS PARKMAN, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 

Copyright, 1892, 
By Francis Parkman. 



Copyright, 1893, 
By Little, Brown, & Co. 



John Wilson and Son, Cambridge. 



THE COMRADE OF. A SUMMER 



AND 



THE FRIEND OF A LIFETIME, 



QUINCY ADAMS SHAW. 



I 



The '' Oregon Trail " is the title under which this 
book first appeared. It was afterwards changed by the 
publisher, and is now i-estored to the form in which it 
originally stood in the Knickerbocker Magazine. As 
the early editions were printed in my absence, I did not 
correct the proofs, a process doubly necessary, since the 
book was written from dictation. The necessary correo 
tions have been made in the present edition. 



I 



PREFACE TO THE ILLUSTRATED EDITION. 



TN the preface to the fourth edition of this book, 
-*- printed in 1872, I spoke of the changes that had 
already come over the Far West. Since that time 
change has grown to metamorphosis. For Indian tee- 
pees, with their trophies of bow, lance, shield, and 
dangling scalplocks, we have towns and cities, resorts 
of liealth and pleasure seekers, with an agreeable society, 
Paris fashions, the magazines, tlie latest poem, and the 
last new novel. The sons of civilization, drawn by the 
fascinations of a fresher aud bolder life, thronged to 
the western wilds in multitudes which blighted the 
charm that had lured them. 

The buffalo is gone, and of all his millions nothing is 
left but bones. Tame cattle and fences of barbed wire 
have supplanted his vast herds and boundless grazing 
grounds. Those discordant serenaders, the wolves that 
howled at evening about the traveller's camp-fire, have 
succumbed to arsenic and hushed their savage music. 
The wild Indian is turned into an ugly caricature of his 
conqueror ; and that which made him romantic, terrible, 
and hateful, is in large measure scourged out of him. 
The slow cavalcade of horsemen armed to the teeth 
has disappeared before parlor cars and the effeminate 
comforts of modern travel. 



Vlll PREFACE TO THE ILLUSTRATED EDITION. 

The rattlesnakes have grown bashful and retiring. 
The mountain lion shrinks from the face of man, and 
even grim '^ Old Ephraim," ^ the grizzly bear, seeks the 
seclusion of his dens and caverns. It is said that he is 
no longer his former self, having found by an intelli- 
gence not hitherto set to his credit, that his ferocious 
strength is no match for a repeating rifle ; with which 
discovery he is reported to have grown diffident, and 
abated the truculence of his more prosperous days. 
One may be permitted to doubt if the blood-thirsty old 
savage has really experienced a change of heart ; and 
before inviting him to single combat, the ambitious ten- 
derfoot, though the proud possessor of a Winchester 
with sixteen cartridges in the magazine, w^ould do well 
to consider not only the quality of his weapon, but also 
that of his own nerves. 

He who feared neither bear, Indian, nor devil, the all- 
daring and all-enduring trapper, belongs to the past, or 
lives only in a few gray-bearded survivals. In his stead 
we have the cowboy, and even his star begins to wane. 

The Wild West is tamed, and its savage charms have 
withered. If this book can help to keep their memory 
alive, it will have done its part. It has found a power- 
ful helper in the pencil of Mr. Remington, whose pic- 
tures are as full of truth as of spirit, for they are the 
work of one who knew the prairies and the mountains 
before irresistible commonplace had subdued them. 

1 Alias " Old Caleb " and " Old Enoch." 

Boston, 16 September, 1892. 



PREFACE TO THE FOURTU EDITION. 



T^HE following sketches first appeared in 1847. A 
summer's adventures of two youths just out of col- 
lege might well enough be allowed to fall into oblivion, 
were it not that a certain interest will always attach to 
the record of that whicli has passed away never to return. 
This book is the reflection of forms and conditions of 
life which have ceased, in great measure, to exist. It 
mirrors the image of an irrevocable past. 

I remember that, as we rode by the foot of Pike's Peak, 
when for a fortnight we met no face of man, my com- 
panion remarked, in a tone any thing but complacent, that 
a time would come when those plains would be a grazing 
country, the buffalo give place to tame cattle, farm-houses 
be scattered along the water-courses, and wolves, bears, 
and Indians be numbered among the things that were. 
We condoled with each other on so melanclioly a prospect, 
but we little thought what the future had in store. We 
knew that there was more or less gold in the seams of 
those untrodden mountains ; but we did not foresee that 
it would build cities in the waste and plant hotels and 
gambling-houses among the haunts of the grizzly bear. 
We knew that a few fanatical outcasts, were groping their 



X PREFACE TO THE FOURTH EDITION. 

way acioss tlie plains to seek an asylum from gentile per- 
secution ; but we did not imagine that the polygamous 
hordes of Mormon would rear a swarming Jerusalem in 
the bosom of solitude itself. We knew that, iiiore and 
more, year after year, the trains of emigrant wagons 
would creep in slow procession towards barbarous Oregon 
or wild and distant California ; but we did not dream how 
Commerce and Gold would breed nations along the Pa- 
cific, the disenchanting screech of the locomotive break 
the spell of weird mysterious mountains, woman's rights 
invade the fastnesses of the Arapahoes, and despairing 
savagery, assailed in front and rear, vail its scalp-locks 
and feathers before triumphant commonplace. We were 
no prophets to foresee all this ; and, had we foreseen it, 
perhaps some perverse regrets might have tempered the 
ardor of our rejoicing. 

The wild cavalcade that defiled with me down the 
gorges of the Black Hills, with its paint and war-plumes, 
fluttering trophies and savage emliroidery, bows, arrows, 
lances, and shields, will never be seen again. Those who 
formed it have found bloody graves, or a ghastlier burial 
in the maws of wolves. The Indian of to-day, armed 
with a revolver and crowned with an old hat ; cased, 
possibly, in trousers or muffled in a tawdry shirt, is an 
Indian still, but an Indian shorn of the picturesqueness 
which was his most conspicuous merit. 

The mountain trapper is no more, and the grim ro- 
mance of his wild, hard life is a memory of the past. 

As regards the motives which sent us to the mountains, 
our liking for them would have sufficed ; but, in my case, 
another incentive was added. 1 went in great measure 



PREFACE TO THE FOURTH EDITION. XI 

as a student, to prepare for a literary undertaking of 
which the plan was already formed, but which, from tlie 
force of inexorable circumstances, is still but half accom- 
plished. It was this that prompted some proceedings on 
my part, which, without a fixed purpose in view, might be 
charged with youthful rashness. My business was obser- 
vation, and I was willing to pay dearly for the opportu- 
nity of exercising it. 

Two or three years ago, I made a visit to our guide, 
the brave and true-hearted Henry Chatillon, at the town 
of Carondelet, near St. Louis. It was more than twenty 
years since we had met. Time hung heavy on his hands, 
as usual with old mountain-men married and established ; 
his hair was touched with gray, and his face and figure 
showed tokens of early hardship ; but the manly simplicity 
of his character was unchanged. He told me that the 
Indians with whom I had been domesticated, a band of 
the hated Sioux, had nearly all been killed in fights with 
the white men. 

The faithful Deslauriers is, I believe, still living on the 
frontier of Missouri. The hunter Raymond perished in 
the snow during Fremont's disastrous passage of the 
mountains in the winter of 1848. 

HoBTON. March 80, 1872. 



COI^TEl!^TS. 



CHAPTER 



PAGE 



I. The Frontier 1 

11. Breaking the Ice 10 

III. Fort Leavenworth - . 21 

IV. "Jumping Off" , . . 25 

V. The "Big Blue" 37 

VI. The Platte and the Desert 51 

VII. The Buffalo . 65 

VIII. Taking French Leave . 80 

IX. Scenes at Fort Laramie 97 

X. The War Parties , 113 

XI. Scenes at the Camp. 137 

XII. Ill-luck . 157 

XIII. Hunting Indians . 165 

XIV. The Ogillallah Village 189 

XV. The Hunting Camp 212 

XVI. The Trappers . 237 

XVII. The Black Hills 247 

XVIIL A Mountain Hunt 251 

XIX. Passage of the Mountains 264 

XX. The Lonely Journey 280 

XXI. The Pueblo and Bent's Fort 301 



XIV CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER p^^GE 

XXII. Tete Rouge, the Volunteer 309 

XXIII. Indian Alarms 315 

XXIV. The Chase 327 

XXV. The Buffalo- Camp , 337 

XXVI. Down the Arkansas 354 

XXVII. The Settlements 372 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

BY FREDERIC REMINGTON. 



Page 
The War Whoop Frontispiece 

The Guide. .... . « 10 

" Old Smoke "... , . . . . 88 

The Trapper , . , . . . « . 158 



THE OREGON TRAIL. 



CHAPTER 1. 

T H E F II N T I E B. 

T AST spring, 1846, was a busy season in the city of 
-■— ' St. Louis. Not only were emigrants from everj/ 
part of the country preparing for the journey to Oregon 
and CaUfornia, but an unusual number of traders were 
making ready their wagons and outfits for Santa F^. 
The hotels were crowded, and the gunsmiths and sad- 
dlers were kept constantly at work in providing arms and 
equipments for the different parties of travellers. Steam- 
boats were leaving the levee and passing up the Missouri, 
crowded with i)assengers on their way to the frontier. 

In one of these, the "Radnor,'' since snagged and lost, 
my friend and relative, Quincy Adams Shaw, and myself, 
left St. Louis on the 28th of April, on a tour of curiosity 
and amusement to the Rocky Mountains. The boat was 
loaded until the water broke alternately over her guards. 
Her upper-deck was covered with large wagons of a pe- 
culiar form, for the Santa Fe trade, and hei" hold was 
crairmied with goods for the same destination. There 
were also the equipments and provisions of a party of 
Oregon emigrants, a band of mules and horses, piles of 
saddles and harness, and a multitude of non Icscript 
ai'ticles, indispensable on the prairies. Almost hiddcis 



Z THE OREGON TRAIL. 

ill this medley was a small French cart, of the sort verj 
appropriately called a •' mule-killer," beyond the frontiers, 
and not far distant a tent, together with a miscellaneous 
assortment of boxes and barrels. The whole equipage 
was far from prepossessing in its appearance ; yet, suet 
as it was, it was destined to a long and arduous journej' 
on which the persevering reader will accompany it. 

The passengers on board the " Radnor " corresponded 
with lier freight. In her cabin were Santa Fe traders, 
gamblers, speculators, and adventurers of various de- 
scriptions, and her steerage was crowded with Oregon 
emigrants, " mountain men," negroes, and a party of 
Kanzas Indians, who had been on a visit to St. Louis. 

Thus laden, the boat struggled upward for seven oi 
eight days against the rapid current of the Missouri, 
grating upon snags, and hanging for two or three hours 
at a time upon sand-bars. We entered the mouth of the 
Missouri in a drizzling rain, but the weather soon became 
clear, and showed distinctly the broad and turbid river, 
with its eddies, its sand-bars, its ragged islands and forest 
covered shores. The Missouri is constantly changing its 
course ; wearing away its banks on one side, while it 
forms new ones on the other. Its channel is continually 
shifting. Islands are formed, and then washed away, 
and while the old forests on one side are undermined 
and swept off, a young growth springs up from the new 
soil upon the other. With all these changes, the water 
is so charged with mud and sand that, in spring, it is 
perfectly opaque, and in a few minutes deposits a sedi- 
ment an inch thick in the bottom of a tumbler. The 
river was now high ; but when we descended in the au- 
tumn it was fallen very low, and all the secrets of its 
treacherous shallows were exposed to view. It was fright- 
fiii to see the dead and broken trees, thick-set as a rail) 



THE FR03STIER. 



6 



tary abattis, firmly imbedded in the sand, and all pointing 
down stream, ready to impale any unhappy steamboat 
that at high water should pass over them. 

In five or six days we began to see signs of' the great 
western movement that was taking place. Parties of 
emigrants, with their tents and wagons, were encamped 
on open spots near the bank, on their way to the common 
rendezvous at Independence. On a rainy day, near sun- 
set, we reached the landing of this place, which is some 
miles from the river, on the extreme frontier of Missouri. 
The scene was characteristic, for here were represented 
at one view the most remarkable features of this wild and 
enterprising region. On the muddy shore stood some 
thirty or forty dark slavish-looking Spaniards, gazing 
stupidly out from beneath their broad hats. They were 
attached to one of the Santa Fe companies, whose wagons 
were crowded together on the ))anks above. ±n the midst 
of these, crouching over a smouldering fire, was a group 
of Indians, belonging to a remote Mexican tribe. One or 
two French hunters from the mountains, with their long 
hair and buckskin dresses, were looking at the boat ; and 
seated on a log close at hand were three men, with rifles 
lying across their knees. The foremost of these, a tall, 
strong figure, with a clear blue eye and an open, intelli- 
gent face, might very well represent that race of restless 
and intrepid pioneers whose axes and rifles have opened 
a path from the Alleghanies to the western prairies. He 
was on his way to Oregon, probably a more congenial 
field to him than any that now remained on this side of 
the great plains. 

Early on the next morning we reached Kanzas, about 
five hundred miles from the mouth of the Missouri. Here 
we landed, and leaving our equipments in charge of Colo- 
nel Chick, whose log-house was the substitute for a tavern, 



4 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

we set out in a wagon for Westport, where we tioped to 
procure mules and horses for the journey. 

It was a remarkably fresh and beautiful May morning 
Tlie woods, through which the miserable road conducted 
us, were lighted by the bright sunshine and enlivened by 
a multitude of birds. We overtook on the way our latt/ 
fellow-travellers, the Kanzas Indians, who, adorned witl 
all their finery, were proceeding homeward at a round 
pace ; and whatever they might have seemed on board 
the boat, they made a very striking and picturesque feat- 
ure in the forest landscape. 

Westport was full of Indians, whose little shaggi' 
ponies were tied by dozens along the houses and fences. 
Sacs and Foxes, with shaved lieads and painted faces, 
Shawanoes and Delawares, fluttering in calico frocks and 
turbans, Wyandots dressed like white men, and a few 
wretched Kanzas wrapped in old blankets, were strolling 
about the streets, or lounging in and out of the shops and 
houses. 

As I stood at the door of the tavern, I saw a remark 
able-looking personage coming up the street. He had a 
ruddy face, garnished with the stumps of a bristly red 
beard and moustache ; on one side of his head was a 
round cap with a knob at the top, such as Scottish labor- 
ers sometimes wear ; his coat was of a nondescript form, 
and made of a gray Scotch plaid, with the fringes hang- 
ing all about it ; he wore trousers of coarse homespun, 
and hob-nailed shoes ; and to complete his equipment, a 
little black pipe was stuck in one corner of his mouth. In 
this curious attire, I recognized Captain C — — , of the 

British army, who, with his brother, and Mr. R , an 

English gentleman, was bound on a hunting expedition 
across the continent. I had seen the captain and his 
companions at St. Louis. They had now been for sumo 



IHE FRONTIER. D 

time at Westport, making preparations for their departure, 
and waiting for a reinforcement, since they were too few 
in number to attempt it alone. Tliey might, it is true, 
have joined some of the parties of emigrants who were 
on the point of setting out for Oregon and California ; 
but they professed great disinclination to have any con 
nection with the " Kentucky fellows." 

The captain now urged it upon us, that we should joiu 
forces and proceed to the mountains in company. Feel- 
ing no greater partiality for the society of the emigrants 
than they did, we thought the arrangement a good one, 
and consented to it. Our future fellow-travellers had 
installed themselves in a little log-house, where we found 
them surrounded by saddles, harness, gims, pistols, tele- 
scopes, knives, and in short their complete appointments 
for the prairie. R , who had a taste for natural his- 
tory, sat at a tal)le stuffing a woodpecker ; the brother of 
the captain, wlio was an Irishman, was splicing a trail-rope 
on the floor. The captain pointed out, with much com- 
placency, the different articles of their outfit. " You see," 
said he, '' that we are all old travellers. I am convinced 
that no party ever went upon the prairie better provided." 
The hunter whom they had employed, a surly-looking 
Canadian, named Sorel, and their muleteer, an American 
ruffian from St. Louis, were lounging about the building. 
In a little log stable close at hand were their horses and 
mules, selected with excellent judgment by the captain. 

We left them to complete their arrangements, while we 
pushed our own to all convenient speed. The emigrants, 
for whoL^i. our friends professed such contempt, were 
encamped on the prairie about eight or ten miles distant, 
to the number of a thousand or more, and new parties 
were constantly passing out from Independence to join 
them. They were in great confusion, holding meetings, 



6 THE OREGON TRATT.. 

passing resolutions, and drawing up regulations, but 
unal:)le to unite in the choice of leaders to conduct them 
across the prairie. Bcmg at leisure one day, I rode over 
to Independence. The town was crowded. A multitude 
of shops had sprung up to furnish the emigrants and 
Santa Fe traders with necessaries for their journej^ ; and 
there was an incessant hammering and banging from a 
dozen blacksmiths' sheds, where the heavy wagons were 
being repaired, and the horses and oxen shod. The 
streets were thronged with men, horses, and mules. 
While I ^\a8 in the town, a train of emigrant wagons 
from Illinois passed through, to join the camp on the 
prairie, and stopped in the principal street. A multi- 
tude of healthy children's faces were peeping out from 
under the covers of the wagons. Here and there a 
buxom damsel was seated on horseback, holding over her 
sunburnt face an old umbrella or a parasol, once gaudy 
enough, but now miserably faded. The men, very sober- 
looking countrymen, stood about their oxen ; and as I 
passed I noticed three old fellows, who, with their long 
whips in their hands, were zealously discussing the doc- 
trine of regeneration. The emigrants, however, are not 
all of this stamp. Among them are some of the vilest 
outcasts in the country. I have often perplexed myself 
to divine the various motives that give impulse to this 
migration ; but whatever they may be, whether an insane 
hope of*a better condition in life, or a desire of shaking 
off restraints of law and society, or mere restlessness, 
certain it is, that multitudes bitterly repent the journey, 
and, after they have reached the land of promise, are 
happy enough to escape from it. 

In the course of seven or eight days we had brought 
our i)reparations nearly to a close. Meanwhile our friends 
had completed theirs, and, becoming tired of Westport, 



THE FRONTIER. 7 

they told us that tlicy would set out in advance, and wait 
at the crossing of the Kanzas till we should come up 

Accordingly R , and the muleteer went forward with 

the wagon and tent, while the captain and his brother, 
together with Sorel, and a trappc: named Boisverd, who 
had joined them, followed with the band of horses. The 
commencement of the journey was ominous, for the cap 
tain was scarcely a mile from Westport, riding along in 
.<^tate at the head of his party, leading his intended buffalo 
horse by a rope, when a tremendous thunder-storm came 
on and drenched them all to the skin. They hurried on to 

reach the place, about seven miles off, where E, , was 

to have had the camp in readiness to receive them. But 
this prudent person, when he saw the storm approaching, 
had selected a sheltered glade in the woods where he 
pitched his tent, and was sipping a comfortable cup of 
coffee while the captain galloped for miles beyond through 
the rain to look for him. At lengtli the storm cleared 
away, and the sharp-eyed trapper succeeded in discovering 
his tent ; R— — , had by this time finished his coffee, and 
was seated on a Ijufflilo-robe smoking his pipe. The cai»- 
tain was one of the most easy-tempered men in existence, 
so he bore his ill-luck with great composure, shared the 
dregs of the coffee with his brother, and lay down to 
sleep in his wet clothes. 

We ourselves had our share of the deluge. We were 
leading a pair of mules to Kanzas when the storm broke. 
Such sharp and incessant flashes of lightning, such stun- 
ning and continuous thunder I had never known before. 
The woods were completely obscured by the diagonal 
sheets of rain that fell with a heavy roar, and rose in 
spray from the ground, and the streams swelled so rapidly 
tnat we could hardly ford them. At length, looming 
through the rain, we saw the log-house of Colonel Chick, 



b THE OREGON TRAIL, 

who received us with his usual bland hospitality ; while 
his wife, who, though a little soured and stiffened by a 
long course of cam})-mcctings, was not behind him in 
good-will, supplied us with the means of bettering our 
drenched and bedraggled condition. The storm clearing 
away at about sunset opened a noble prospect from the 
porch of the colonel's house which stands upon a high 
hill. The sun streamed from the breaking clouds upon 
the swift and angry Missouri, and on the vast expanse of 
forest that stretched from its banks back to the distant 
bluffs. 

Returning on the next day to Wcstport we received a 
message from the captain, who had ridden back to deliver 
it in person, Imt finding that we were in Kanzas, had 
intrusted it with an acquaintance of his named Vogel, 
who kept a small grocery and liquor shop. Whiskey, by 
the way, circulates more freely in Westport than is alto- 
gether safe in a place where every man cai'ries a loaded 
pistol in his pocket. As we passed this establishment 
we saw Vogers broad German face thrust from his door. 
He said he had something to tell us, and invited us to 
take a dram. Neither his liquor nor his message were 
very [)alatable. The captain had retm'ued to give us 

notice that 11 , who assumed the direction of his party, 

had determined upon another route from that agreed 
upon between us ; and instead of taking the course of 
the traders, had resolved to pass northward by Fort 
Leavenworth, and follow the path marked out by the 
dragoons in their expedition of last summer. To adopt 
such a plan without consulting us, we looked upon as a 
high-handed proceeding; but suppressing our dissatisfac- 
tion as well as we could, we made up our minds to join 
them at Fort Leavenworth, where they wcie to wail 
for us. 



THE FRONTIER. 9 

Accordingly, our preparation being now complete, we 
attempted one fine morinng to liegin our journey. The 
first step was an unfortunate one. No sooner were our 
animals put in harness than the shaft-mule reared and 
plunged, burst ropes and straps, and nearly flung the cart 
into the Missouri. Finding her wholly uncontrollable, we 
exchanged her for another, with which we were furnished 
by our friend Mr. Boone, of Westport, a grandson of 
Daniel Boone, the pioneer. This foretaste of prairie 
experience was very soon followed by another. Westpoii; 
was scarcely out of sight when we encountered a deep 
muddy gully, of a species that afterward became but too 
familiar to us, and here for the space of an hour or more 
•■he cari stuck fast. 



CHAPTER II. 

BREAKING THE ICE. 

r? MERGING from the mud-holes of Westport, wo pur- 
■*— ^ sued our way for some time along the narrow track, 
m the checkered sunshine and shadow of the woods, till 
at length, issuing into the broad light, we left behind us 
the farthest outskirts of the great forest, that once spread 
from the western plains to the shore of the Atlantic. 
Looking over an intervening belt of bushes, we saw 
the green, ocean-like expanse of prairie, stretching swell 
beyond s^vell to the horizon. 

It was a mild, calm spring day ; a day when one is 
more disposed to musing and reverie than to action, and 
the softest part of his nature is apt to gain the upper 
hand. I rode in advance of the party, as we passed 
through the bushes, and, as a nook of green grass 
offered a strong temptation, I dismounted and lay down 
there. All the trees and saplings were in flower, or bud- 
ding into fresh leaf ; the red clusters of the maple-blos 
soms and the rich flowers of the Indian apple were there 
in profusion ; and I was half inclined to regret leaving 
behind the land of gardens, for the rude and stern scenes 
of the prairie and the mountains. 

Meanwhile the party came in sight out of the bushes. 
Foremost rode Henry Chatillon, our guide and hunter, 
a fine athletic figure, mounted on a hardy gi-ay Wyandot 
pony. He wore a white blanket-coat, a broad hat of felt, 




---^etic Af'^x.'^^^R.- 



THE GUIDE. 



BREAKING THE ICE. I 1 

moccasins, and trowsers of deer-skin, ornamented along 
the seams with rows of long fringes. His knife was stuck 
in his belt ; his bullet-pouch and powder-horn hung at his 
side, and his rifle lay before him, resting against the high 
• pommel of his saddle, which, like all his equipments, had 
seen hard service, and was much the worse for wear. 
Shaw followed close, mounted on a little sorrel horse, 
and leading a larger animal by a rope. His outfit, which 
rese.ifibled mine, had been provided with a view to use 
rather than ornament. It consisted of a plain, black 
Spanish saddle, with holsters of heavy pistols, a blanket 
rolled up behind, and the trail-rope attached to his horse'u 
neck hanging coiled in front. He carried a double-bar- 
relled smooth-bore, while I had a rifle of some fifteen 
pounds weight. At that time our attire, thougli far from 
elegant, bore some marks of civilization, and offered a 
very favorable contrast to the inimitable shabbiness oi' 
our appearance on the return journey. A red flannel 
shirt, belted around the waist like a frock, then consti- 
tuted our upper garment ; moccasins had supplanted our 
failing boots ; and the remaining essential portion of our 
attire consisted of an extraordinary article, manufactured 
by a squaw out of smoke4 buckskin. Our muleteer, Des- 
lauriers, brought up the rear witli his cart, wading ankle 
deep in the mud, alternately puihng at his pipe, and ejac- 
ulating in his prairie patois, '■'- Sacre enfant de garce!^^ 
as one of the mules would seem to recoil before some 
abyss of unusual profundity. The cart was of the kind 
that one may see by scores around the marlvct^place at 
Quebec, and had a white covering to protect the articles 
within. These were our provisions and a tent, with am- 
munition, blankets, and presents for the Indians. 

We were in all four men with eight animals ; for be 
sides the spare horses led by Shaw and myself, an addi 



12 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

tional mule was driven along with uh as a reserve in case 
of accident. 

After this summing up of our forces, it may not be 
amiss to glance at the characters of tlie two men who 
accompanied us. 

Deslauriers was a Canadian, with all the characteristics 
of the true Jean Baptiste. Neither fatigue, exposure, nor 
hard labor could ever impair his cheerfulness and gayety, 
or his politeness to his hourgeois ; and when night came, 
he would sit down hj the fire, smoke his pipe, and tell 
stories with l:he utmost contentment. The prairie was 
his element. Henry Chatillon was of a different stamp. 
When we were at St. Louis, several gentlemen of the 
Fur Company had kindly offered to procure for us a 
hunter and guide suited for our purposes, and on coming 
one afternoon to the office, we found there a tall and 
exceedingly well-dressed man, with a face so open and 
frank that it attracted our notice at once. We were 
surprised at being told that it was he who wished to guide 
us to the mountains. He was born in a little French 
town near St. Louis, and from the age of fifteen years had 
been constantly in the neighborhood of the Rocky Moun- 
tains, employed for the most part by the company, to sup- 
ply their forts with buffalo meat. As a hunter, he had 
but one rival in the whole region, a man named Simoneau, 
with whom, to the honor of both of them, he was on 
terms of the closest friendship. He had arrived at St. 
Louis the day before, from the mountains, where he had 
been for four years ; and he now asked only to go and 
spend a day with his mother, before setting out on an- 
other expedition. His age was about thirty ; he was six 
feet high, and very powerfully and gracefully moulded. 
The prairies had been his school ; he could neither read 
iior write, but he had a natural refinement and delicacy 



BBEAKING THE ICE. 13 

of mind, such as is rare even in women. His manly face 
was a mirror of uprightness, simplicity, and kindness of 
heart ; he had, moreover, a keen perception of character, 
and a tact that would preserve him from flagrant error in 
any society. Henry had not the restless energy of an 
Anglo-American. He was content to take things as he 
found them ; and his chief fault arose from an excess ol 
easy generosity, not conducive to thriving in the world. 
Yet it was commonly remarked of him, that whatever 
he might choose to do with what belonged to himself, ilit 
property of others was always safe in his hands. His 
bravery was as much celebrated in the mountains as his 
skill in hunting ; but it is characteristic of him that 
in a country where the rifle is the chief arbiter between 
man and man, he Was very seldom involved in quar- 
rels. Once or twice, indeed, his quiet good nature had 
been mistaken and presumed upon, but the consequences 
of the error were such, that no one was ever known to 
lepeat it. No better evidence of the intrepidity of his 
temper could be asked, than the common report that he 
had killed more than thirty grizzly bears. He was a 
proof of what unaided nature will sometimes do. I have 
never, in the city or in the wilderness, met a better man 
than my true-hearted friend, Henry Chatillon. 

We were soon free of the woods and buslies, ana fairly 
upon the broad prairie. Now and then a Shawanoe 
passed us, riding his little shaggy pony at a " lope ;'' his 
calico shirt, his gaudy sash, and the gay handkerchief bound 
around his snaky hair, fluttering in the wind. At noon 
we stopped to rest not far from a little creek, replete with 
frogs and young turtles. There had been an Indian 
encampment at the place, and the framework of the 
lodges still remained, enabling us very easily to gam a 
shelter from the sun, by merely spreading one or twc 



14 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

olankets over them. Thus shaded, we sat upon our sad 
dies, and Shaw for the first thne lighted his fjjtvorit^ 
Indian pipe ; while Deslauriers was squatted over a hot 
bed of coals, shading his eyes witli ^j^^ hand, and hold- 
ing a little stick in the other, with which he regulated the 
hissing contents of the frying-pan. The horses were 
turned to feed among the scattered bushes of a low oozy 
meadow. A drowsy spring-like sultriness pervaded the 
air, and the voices of ten thousand young frogs and 
insects, just awakened into life, rose in varied chorus 
iTom the ci'eek and the meadows. 

Scarcely were we seated when a visitor approached. 
This was an old Kanzas Indian ; a man of distinction, if 
one might judge from his dress. His head was shaved 
and painted red, and from the tuft of hair remaining on 
the crown dangled several eagle's feathers, and the tails 
of two or three rattlesnakes. His cheeks, too, were 
daubed with vermilion ; his ears were adorned with 
green glass pendants ; a collar of grizzly bears' claws 
surrounded his neck, and several large necklaces of wam- 
pum hung on his breast. Having shaken us by the hand 
with a grunt of salutation, the old man, dropping his red 
blanket from his shoulders, sat down cross-legged on the 
ground. We offered him a cup of sweetened water, at 
which he ejaculated " Good 1 " and was beginning to tell 
us how great a man he was, and how many Pawnees he 
had killed, when suddenly a motley concourse appeared 
wading across the creek towards us. Thuy fded past in 
rapid succession, men, women and children : some were 
on horseback, some on foot, but all were alike squalid 
and wretched. Old squaws, mounted astride of shaggy, 
meagre little ponies, with perhaps one or two snake-eyed 
children seated hehind them, clinging to their tattered 
blankets ; tall lank young men . on foot, with bows and 



BREAKING THE ICE. 16 

arrows in their hands ; and girls whose native ugliness 
not all the charms of glass beads and scarlet cloth could 
disguise, made up the procession ; although here and 
there was a man .who, like our visitor, seemed to hold 
gome rank in this respectable community. They were 
the dregs of the Kanzas natio^n, who, wliile their betters 
were gone to hunt the buffalo, had left the village on fc 
begging expedition to Westport. 

When this ragamuffin horde had passed, we caught 
our horses, saddled, harnessed, and resumed our journey. 
Fording the creek, the low roofs of a number of rude 
buildings appeared, rising from a cluster of groves and 
woods on the left ; and riding up through a long lane 
amid a profusion of wild roses and early spring flowers, 
we found the log-church and school-houses belonging to 
the Methodist Shawanoe Mission. The Indians were on 
the point of gathering to a religious meeting. Some 
scores of them, tall men in half-civilized dress, were 
seated on wooden benches under the trees ; while their 
horses were tied to the sheds and fences. Their chief, 
Parks, a remarkably large and athletic man, had just 
arrived from Westport, where he owns a trading estab- 
lishment. Beside this, he has a large farm and a con- 
siderable number of slaves. Indeed the Shawanoes have 
made greater progress in agriculture than any other tribe 
on the Missouri frontier ; and both in appearance and in 
character form a marked contrast to our late acquaintance, 
the Kanzas. 

A few hours' ride brought us to the banks of the river 
Kanzas. Traversing the woods that lined it, and plough 
ing through the deep sand, we encamped not far from the 
bank, at the Lower Delaware crossing. Our tent was 
erected for the first time, on a meadow close to the woods, 
and the camp preparations being complete, we began to 



16 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

think of supper. An old Delaware woman, of some three 
hundred pounds weight, sat in the porch of a little log- 
house, close to the water, and a very pretty half-breed 
girl was engaged, under her superintendence, in feeding 
a large flock of turkeys that were fluttering and gobbling 
about the door. But no offers of money, or even of tobacco, 
could induce her to part with one of her favorites : so 1 
took my rifle, to see if the woods or the river could fur- 
nish us any thing. A multitude of quails were plain- 
tively whistling in the meadows ; but nothing appropriate 
to the rifle was to be seen, except three buzzards, seated 
on the spectral limbs of an old dead sycamore, that thrust 
itself out over the river from the dense sunny wall of fresh 
foliage. Their ugly heads were drawn down between 
their shoulders, and they seemed to luxuriate in tlie soft 
sunshine that was pouring from the west. As tliey offered 
no epicurean temptations, I refrained from disturbing 
their enjoyment ; but contented myself with admiring the 
calm beauty of the sunset, — for the river, eddying swiftly 
in deep purple shadows between the impending woods, 
formed a wild but tranquillizing scene. 

When I returned to the camp, I found Shaw and an 
old Indian seated on the ground in close conference, pass 
ing the pipe between them. The old man was explain- 
ing that he loved the whites, and had an especial partiality 
for tobacco. Deslauriers was ai-ranging upun the ground 
our service of tin cups and plates ; and as otiier viands 
were not to be had, he set before us a repast of biscuit 
and bacon, and a large pot of coffee. Unsheathing our 
knives, we attacked it, disposed of the greater part, 
and tossed the residue to the Indian. Meanwhile our 
horses, now hobbled for the first time, stood among the 
trees, with their fore-legs tied together, in great disgust 
and astonishment. They seemed by no means to relish 



BREAKING THE ICE. 11 

this foretaste of what awaited them. Mine, in partic- 
ular, had conceived a mortal aversion to the prairie life. 
One of them, christened Hendrick, an animal whose 
strength and hardihood were his only merits, and who 
yielded to nothing but the cogent arguments of the whip, 
looked toward us with an indignant countenance, as if 
he meditated avenging his wrongs with a kick. The 
other, Pontiac, a good horse, though of plebeian lineage, 
stood with his head drooping and his mane hanging about 
his eyes, with the grieved and sulky air of a lubberly 
boy sent oif to school. His forebodings were but too 
just ; for when I last heard from him, he was under the 
lash of an Ogillallah brave, on a war party against the 
Crows. 

As it grew dark and the voices of the whippoorwills 
succeeded the whistle of the quails, we removed our 
saddles to the tent to serve as pillows, spread our blankets 
upon the ground, and prepared to bivouac fur the first 
time that season. Each man selected the place in the 
tent which he was to occupy for the journey. To Deslau- 
riers, however, was assigned the cart into which he could 
creep in wet weather, and find a much better shelter than 
his bourgeois enjoyed in the tent. 

The river Kanzas at this point forms the boundaiy line 
between the country of the Shawanoes and that of the 
Delawares. We crossed it on the following day, rafting 
over our horses and equipments with much difficulty, and 
unlading our cart in order to make our way up the steep 
ascent on the farther bank. It was a Sunday morning; 
warm, tranquil and bright ; and a perfect stillness reigned 
over the rough inclosures and neglected fields of the 
Delawares, except the ceaseless hum and chirruping of 
myriads of insects. Now and then an Indian rode past 
on his way to the meeting-house, or, through the dilapi 

2 



IS THE OREGON TRAIL. 

dated entrance of some shattered log-house, an old womaji 
might be discerned enjoying all the luxury of idleness. 
There was no village bell, for the Delawares have none ; 
and yet upon that forlorn and rude settlement was the 
same spirit of Sabbath repose and tranquillity as in some 
N^ew England village among the mountains of New 
Hampshire, or the Vermont woods. 

A military road led from this point to Fort Leaven 
worth, and for many miles the farms and cabins of the 
Delawares were scattered at short intervals on either 
hand. The little rude structures of logs erected usually 
on the borders of a tract of woods made a picturesque 
feature in the landscape. But. the scenery needed no 
foreign aid. Nature had done enough for it ; and the 
alternation of rich green prairies and groves that stood in 
clusters, or lined the banks of the numerous little streams, 
had all the softened and polished beauty of a region that 
has been for centuries under the hand of man. At that 
early season, too, it was in the height of its freshness. 
The woods were flushed with th e red buds of the maple ; 
there were frequent flowering shrubs unknown in the 
east; and the green swells of the prairie were thickly 
studded with blossoms. 

Encamping near a spring, by the side of a hill, we 
resumed our journey in the morning, and early in the 
afternoon were within a few miles of Fort Leavenworth. 
The road crossed a stream densely bordered with trees, 
and running in the bottom of a deep woody hollow. We 
were about to descend into it when a wild and confused 
procession appeared, passing through the water beiow^ 
and coming up the steep ascent towards us. We stopped 
to let them pass. They were Delawares, just returned 
from a hunting expedition. All, both men and women, 
wej-c mounted on horseback, and drove along with them 



BREAKING THE ICE. 19 

a considerable number of pack-mules, laden with the furs 
tliey had taken, together with the buffalo-robes, kettles, 
and other articles of their travelling equipment, whicli, 
as well as their clothing and their weapons, had a worn 
and dingy look, as if they had seen hard service of late. 
At the rear of the party was an old man, who, as he 
came up, stopped his horse to speak to us. He rode a 
tough shaggy pony, with mane and tail well knotted with 
burs, and a rusty Spanish bit in its mouth, to which, by 
way of reins, was attached a string of raw hide. His 
saddle, robbed probably from a Mexican, had no covering, 
being merely a tree of the Spanish form, with a piece of 
grizzly bear's skin laid over it, a pair of rude wooden stir- 
rups attached, and, in the absence of girth, a thong of 
hide passing around the horse's belly. The rider's dark 
features and keen snaky eye were unequivocally Indian. 
He wore a buckskin frock, which, like his frhiged leg- 
gings, was well polished and blackened by grease and 
long service, and an old handkerchief was tied around 
his head. Resting on the saddle before him lay his rifle, 
a weapon in the use of which the Delawares are skilful, 
though, from its weight, the distant prairie Indians are 
too lazy to carry it. 

" Who's your chief? " he immediately inquired. 

Henry Chatillon pointed to us. The old Delaware 
fixed his eyes intently upon us for a moment, and then 
Rententiously remarked, — 

'' No good ! Too young ! " With this flattering com- 
ment he left us and rode after his people. 

This tribe, the Delawares, once the peaceful allies of 
William Penn, the tributaries of the conquering Iroquois, 
are now the most adventurous and dreaded warriors upon 
the prairies. They make war upon remote tribes, the 
very names of which were unknown to their fathers in 



20 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

their ancient seats in Pennsylvania, and they push thebe 
new quarrels with true Indian rancor, sending out their 
war-parties as far as the Rocky Mountains, and into the 
Mexican territories. Thoir neighbors and former confed 
erates, the Shawanoes, who are tolerable farmers, are in 
a prosperous condition; but the Dela wares dwindle every 
year, from the number of men lost in their warlike expe- 
ditions. 

Soon after leaving this party we saw, stretching on the 
right, the forests that follow the course of the Missouri, 
and the deep woody channel through which at this poin^ 
it runs. At a distance in front were the white barracks 
of Fort Leavenworth, just visible through the trees upon 
an eminence above a bend of the river. A wide green 
meadow, as level as a lake, lay between us and the Mis- 
souri, and upon this, close to a line of trees that bordered 
•a little brook, stood the tent of the Captain and his com 
pahions, with their horses feeding around it ; but they 
themselves were invisible. Wright, their muleteer, was 
there, seated on the tongue of the wagon, repairing his 
harness. Boisverd stood cleaning his rifle at the door of 
the tent, and Sorel lounged idly about. On closer exam 
ination, however, we discovered the. Captain's brother, 
Jack, sitting in the tent, at his old occupation of splicing 
trail-ropes. He welcomed us in his broad Irish brogue, 
and said that his brother was fishing in the river, and 
R gone to the garrison. They returned before sun- 
get. Meanwhile we pitched our own tent not far off, and 
after supper a council was held, in which it was resolved 
to remain one day at Fort Leavenworth, and on the next 
to bid a final adieu to the frontier, or, in the phraseology 
of the region, to "jump off." Our deliberations were 
conducted by the ruddy light from a distant swell of the 
prairie where the long dry grass of last summer was ua 
fire 



CHAPTER III. 

PORT LEAVENWORTH. 

ON the next morning we rode to Fort Leavenworth. 
Colonel, now General Kearney, to whom I had had 
the honor of an introduction when at St. Louis, was just 
arrived, and received us at his quarters with the courtesy 
habitual to him. Fort Leavenworth is in fact no fort, 
being without defensive works, except two block-houses. 
No rumors of war had as yet disturbed its tranquillity. 
In the square grassy area, surrounded by barracks and 
the quarters of the officers, the men were passing and 
repassing, or lounging among the trees ; although not 
many weeks afterwards it presented a different scene ; 
for here the offscourings of the frontier were congregated 
for the expedition against Santa F^. 

Passing through the garrison, we rode toward the 
Kickapoo village, five or six miles beyond. The path, a 
rather dubious and uncertain one, led us along the ridge 
of high bluffs that border the Missouri ; and, by looking 
to Lie right or to the left, we could enjoy a strange con- 
trast of scenery. On the left stretched the prairie, rising 
into swells and undulations, thickly sprinkled with groves, 
or gracefully expanding into wide grassy basins, of miles 
in extent ; while its curvatures, swelling against the hori- 
zon, were often surmounted by liries of sunny woods ; a 
scene to which the freshness of the season and the peculiar 
mellowness' of the atmosphere gave additional softness 



22 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

Below US, on the right, was a tract of ragged and broken 
woods. We could look down on the tops of the trees, 
some living and some dead ; some erect, others leaning 
at every angle, and others piled in masses together Sy 
the passage of a hurricane. Beyond their extreme verge 
the turbid waters of the Missouri were discernible 
through the boughs, rolling powerfully along at the foot 
of the woody declivities on its farther bank. 

The path soon after led inland ; and, as we crossed an 
open meadow, we saw a cluster of buildings on a rising 
ground before us, with a crowd of people surrounding 
them. They were the storehouse, cottage, and stables of 
the Kickapoo trader's establishment. Just at that mo- 
ment, as it chanced, he was beset with half the Indians 
of the settlement. They had tied their wretched, neg- 
lected little ponies by dozens along the fences and out- 
horuses, and were either lounging about the place, or 
crowding into the trading-house. Here were faces of 
various colors : red, green, white, and black, curiously 
intermingled and disposed over the visage in a variety of 
patterns. Calico shirts, red and blue blankets, brass 
ear-rings, wampum necklaces, appeared in profusion. 
The trader was a blue-eyed, open-faced man, who neither 
in his manners nor his appearance betrayed any of the 
roughness of the frontier ; though just at present he was 
obliged to keep a lynx eye on his customers, who, men 
and women, were climbing on his counter, and seating 
themselves among his boxes and bales. 

The village itself was not far off, and sufficiently illus- 
trated the condition of its unfortunate and self-abandoned 
occupants. Fancy to yourself a little swift stream, work- 
ing its devious way down a woody valley ; sometimes 
wholly hidden under logs and fallen tre^s, sometimes 
spreading into a, bioad, clear pool ; and on its banks, in 



FORT LEAVENWORTH. 2'6 

attle nooks cleared away among the trees, miniature log- 
houses, in utter ruin and neglect. A labyrinth of narrow, 
obstructed paths connected these habitations one with an- 
other. Sometimes we met a stray calf, a pig, or a pony, 
belonging to some of the villagers, who usually lay in 
the sun in front of their dwellings, and looked on us with 
cold, suspicious eyes as w^e approached. Farther on, in 
place of the log-huts of the Kickapoos, we found the 
pukwi lodges of their neighbors, the Pottawattamies, 
whose condition seemed no better than theirs. 

Growing tired at last, and exhausted by the excessive 
heat and sultriness of the day, we returned to our friend, 
the trader. By this time the crowd around him had dis- 
persed, and left him at leisure. He invited us to his 
cottage, a little white-and-green building, in the style of 
the old French settlements ; and ushered us into a neat, 
well-furnished room. The blinds were closed, and the 
heat and glare of the sun excluded ; the room was as 
cool as a cavern. It was neatly carpeted, too, and fur- 
nished in a manner that we hardly expected on the fron- 
tier. The sofas, chairs, tables, and a well-filled bookcase, 
would not have disgraced an eastern city ; though there 
were one or two little tokens that indicated the rather 
questionable civilization of the region. A pistol, loaded 
and capped, lay on the mantel-piece ; and through the 
glass of the bookcase, peeping above the works of John 
Milton, glittered the handle of a very mischievous- looking 
knife. 

Our host went out, and returned with iced water, glasses, 
and a bottle of excellent claret, — a refreshment most wel- 
come in the extreme heat of the day ; and soon after 
appeared a merry, laughing woman, who must hate been, 
a year or two before, a very rich specimen uf Creole 
beauty. She came to say that lunch was ready in the 



24 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

next room. Our hostess evidently lived on the sunny 
side of life, and troubled herself witli none of its cares. 
She sat down and entertained us while we were at table 
with anecdotes of fishing-parties, frolics, and the officers 
at the fort. Taking leave at length of the liospitable 
trader and his friend, we rode back to the garrison. 

Shaw passed on to the camp, while I remained to call 
upon Colonel Kearney. I found him still at table. There 
sat our friend the Captain, in the same remarkable habili 
ments in which we saw him at Westport ; the black pipe, 
however, being for the present laid aside. He dangled 
his little cap in his hand, and talked of steeple-chases, 
touching occasionally upon his anticipated exploits in 

buffalo-hunting. There, too, was R , somewhat more 

elegantly attired. For the last time, we tasted the luxu- 
ries of civilization, and drank adieus to it in wine good 
enough to make us regret the leave-taking. Then, mount- 
ing, we rode together to the camp, where every thing ws9 
'u readiness for departure on the morrow. 



CHAPTER IV. 



OUR transatlantic companions were well equipped for 
the journey. They had a wagon drawn by six 
mules, and crammed with provisions for six months, 
besides ammunition enough for a regiment ; spare rifles 
and fowling-pieces, ropes and harness, personal baggage, 
and a miscellaneous assortment of articles, which pro- 
duced infinite embarrassment. Tliey had also decorated 
their persons with telescopes and portable compasses, 
and carried English double-barrelled rifles of sixteen 
to the pound calibre, slung to their saddles in dragooD 
fashion. 

By sunrise on the twenty-third of May we had break- 
fasted ; the tents were levelled, the animals saddled and 
harnessed, and all was prepared. '' Avance done! get 
up ! " cried Deslauriers to his mule. Wright, our friends' 
muleteer, after some swearing and lashing, got his insub- 
ordinate train in motion, and then the whole party filed 
from the ground. Thus we bade a long adieu to bed and 
board, and the principles of Blackstone's Commentaries. 
The day was a most auspicious one ; and yet Shaw and I 
felt certain misgivings, which in the sequel proved but 
too well founded. We had just learned that though 
R had taken it upon him to adopt this course with- 
out consulting us, not a single man in the party knew the 
way ; and the absurdity of the proceeding soon became 



26 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

manifest. His plan was to strike the trail of several 
companies of dragoons, who last summer had made an 
expedition under Colonel Kearney to Fort Laramie, and 
by this means to reach the grand trail of the Oregon emi- 
giants up the Platte. 

We rode for an hour or two, when a familiar cluster of 
buildings appeared on a little hill. " Hallo ! " shouted 
the Kickanoo trader from over liis fence, '^ where are you 
going ? ' A few rather emphatic exclamations might 
have been heard among us, when we found that we had 
gone miles out of our way, and were not advanced an 
inch toward the Rocky Mountains. > So we turned in the 
direction the trader indicated ; and with the sun for a 
guide, began to trace a " bee-line " across the prairies. 
We struggled through copses and lines of wood ; we 
waded brooks and pools of water ; we traversed prairies 
as green as an emerald, expanding before us mile after, 
mile, wider and more wild than the wastes Mazeppa 
rode over. 

" Man nor brute, 
Nor dint of hoof, nor print of foot, • 
Lay in the wUd luxuriant soil ; 
No sign of travel ; none of toil ; 
The very air was mute." 

Riding in advance, as we passed over one of these 
great plains, we looked back and saw the line of scattered 
horsemen stretching for a mile or more ; and, far in the 
rear, against the horizon, the white wagons creeping 
slowly along. " Here we are at last I " shouted the Cap- 
tain. And, in truth, we had struck upon the traces of a 
large body of horse. We turned joyfully and followed 
Mils new course, with tempers somewhat improved; and 
towards sunset encamped on a high swell of the prairie, 
at the foot of which a lazy stream .soaked along through 
clumps of rank grass. It was getting dark. We turned 



" JUMPING OFF," 2'< 

fche horses loose to feed. '' Drive down the tent-picketa 
hard," said Henry Chatillon, " it is going to blow." We 
did so, and secured the tent as well as we could ; for the 
sky had changed totally, and a fresh damp smell in the 
wind warned us that a stormy night was likely to succeed 
the hot, clear day. The prairie also wore a new aspect, 
and its vast swells had grown black and sombre under 
the shadow of the clouds. The thunder soon began to 
growl at a distance. Picketing and hobbling the liorses 
among the rich grass at the foot of the slope where wo 
encamped, we gained a shelter just as the rain began to 
fall ; and sat at the opening of the tent, w^atching the 
proceedings of the Captain. In defiance of the rain, he 
was stalking among the horses, wrapped in an old Scotch 
plaid. An extreme solicitude tormented him, lest some 
of his favorites should escape, or some accident should 
befall them ; and he cast an anxious eye towards three 
wolves who were sneaking along over the dreary surface 
of the plain, as if he dreaded some hostile demonstration 
on their part. 

On the next morning we had gone but a mile or two 
when we came to an extensive belt of woods, through the 
midst of which ran a stream, wide, deep, and of an 
appearance particularly muddy and treacherous. Deslau 
riers was in advance with his cart; he jerked his pipe 
from his mouth, lashed his mules, and poured forth a 
volley of Canadian ejaculations. In plunged the cart, 
but midway it stuck fast. He leaped out knee-deep in 
water, and, by dint of sacres and a vigorous application 
of the whip, urged the mules out of the slough. Then 
approached the long team and heavy wagon of our friends ; 
but it paused on the brink. 

"Now my advice is," — began the Captain, who had 
been anxiously contemplating the muddy gulf. 



28 THE OREGON TRAIL. 



" Drive on ! " cried R- 



But Wright, the rauleteer, apparently had not as yet 
decided the point in his own mind ; and he sat still in his 
seat, on one of the shaft-mules, whistling in a low con- 
templative strain to himself. 

'' My advice is," resumed the Captain, " that we un- 
load ; for I'll bet any man five pounds that if we try to 
go through we shall stick fast." 

" By the powers, we shall stick fast ! " echoed Jack, the 
Captain's brother, shaking his large head with an air of 
firm conviction. 

" Drive on ! drive on ! " cried R , petulantly. 

^' Well," ol)served the Captain, turning to us as we sat 
looking on, much edified by this by-play among our con- 
federates, " I can only give my advice, and if people won't 
be reasonable, why they won't, that's all ! " 

Meanwhile Wright had apparently made up his mind ; 
for he suddenly began to shout forth a volley of oaths 
and curses, that, compared with the French imprecations 
of Deslauriers, sounded like the roaring of heavy cannon 
after the popping and sputtering of a bunch of Chinese 
jrackers. At the same time he discharged a shower of 
blows upon his mules, who hastily dived into the mud, 
and drew the wagon lumbering after them. For a mo- 
ment the issue was doubtful. Wright writhed about in 
his saddle, and swore and lashed like a madman ; but who 
can count on a team of half-broken mules ? At the most 
critical point, when all should have been harmony and 
combined effort, the perverse brutes fell into disorder, 
and huddled together in confusion on the farther bank. 
There was the wagon up to the hub in mud, and visibly 
settling every instant. There was nothing for it but to 
unload ; then to dig away the mud from before the wheels 
with a spade, and lay a causeway of lushes and branchCrS 



" JUMPING OFF.** *29 

This agreeable labor accomplished, the wagon at length 
emerged ; but as some interruption of this sort occurred 
at least four or five times a day for a fortniglit, our 
progress towards the Platte was not without its obsta 
cles. 

We travelled six or seven miles farther, and ''nooned'* 
near a brook. On the point of resuming our journey, 
when the horses were all driven down to water, my home 
sick charger, Pontiac, made a sudden leap across, and set 
off at a round trot for the settlements. I moiuited my 
remaining horse and started in pursuit. Making a cir- 
cuit, I headed the runaway, hoping to drive him back to 
camp, but he instantly broke into a gallop, made a wide 
tour on the prairie, and got by me again. T tried this 
plan repeatedly with the same result ; Pontiac was evi- 
dently disgusted with the prairie, so I abandoned it and 
tried another, trotting along gently behind him, in hopes 
that I might quietly get near enough to seize the trail- 
rope which was fastened to his neck, and dragged about 
a dozen feet behind him. The chase grew interesting. 
For mile after mile I followed the rascal with the utmost 
care not to alarm him, and gradually got nearer, until at 
length old Hendrick's nose was fairly brushed by the 
whisking tail of the unsuspecting Pontiac. Without 
drawing rein I slid softly to the ground ; but my long 
heavy rifle encumbered me, and the low sound it made in 
striking the liorn of the saddle startled him, he pricked 
up his ears and sprang off at a run. " My friend,'' 
thought 1, remounting, " do that again and I will shoot 
you : " 

Fort Leavenworth was about forty miles distant, and 
thither I determined to follow him. I made up my mind 
to spend a solitary and supperless night, and then set out 
again in the morning. One hope, however, remained 



30 THE OREGON TRATIi. 

The creek where the wagon had stuck was just befor*. 
us ; Pontiac might be thirsty with his run and stop there 
to drink. I kept as near him as possible, taking every 
precaution not to alarm him again ; and the result proved 
as I had hoped, for he walked deliberately among the 
trees and stooped down to the water. 1 alighted, dragged 
old Hendrick through the mud, and with a feeling of 
infinite satisfaction picked up the slimy trail-rope, and 
twisted it three times round my hand. " Now let me see 
you get away again!" I thought, as 1 remounted. But 
Pontiac was exceedingly reluctant to turn back ; Hen- 
drick, too, who had evidently flattered himself with vain 
hopes, showed the utmost repugnance, and grumbled in a 
manner peculiar to himself at being compelled to face 
about. A smart cut of the whip restored his cheerful- 
ness ; and, dragging the recovered truant behind, I set out 
hi search of the camp. An hour or two elapsed, when, 
near sunset, I saw the tents, standing on a swell of the 
prairie, beyond a line of woods, while the bands of horses 
were feeding in a low meadow close at hand. There sat 

Jack C , cross-legged, in the sun, splicing a trail-rope; 

and the rest were lying on the grass, smoking and telling 
stories. That night we enjoyed a serenade from the 
wolves, more lively than any with which they had yet 
favored us ; and in the morning one of the musicians 
appeared, not many rods from the tents, quietly seated 
among the horses, looking at us with a pair of large gray 
eyes ; but perceiving a rifle levelled at him, he leaped up 
and made off in hot haste. 

I pass by the following day or two of our journey, for 
nothing occurred worthy of record. Shoidd any one of 
my readers ever be impelled to visit the prairies, and 
should he choose the route of the Platte (the best, per- 
haps, that can be adopted), I can assure him that he 



•• JUMPING OFF." 31 

liijed uot think to enter at once upon the paradise of his 
imagination. A dreary preliminary, a protracted crossing 
of the threshold, awaits him before he finds himself fairly 
upon the verge of the "great American desert," — those 
barren wastes, the haunts of the buffalo and the Indian, 
where the very shadow of civilization lies a hundred 
leagues behind him. The intervening country, the wide 
and fertile belt that extends for several hundred miles 
beyond the extreme frontier, will probably answer toler- 
ably well to his preconceived ideas of the prairie ; for 
this it is from which picturesque tourists, painters, poets, 
and novelists, who have seldom penetrated farther, have 
derived their conceptions of the wliole region. If he has 
a painter's eye, he may find his period of probation not 
wholly void of interest. The scenery, though tame, is 
graceful and pleasing. Here are level plains, too wide 
for the eye to measure ; green undulations, like motion- 
less swells of the ocean ; abundance of streams, followed 
through all their windings by lines of woods and scattered 
groves. But let him be as enthusiastic as he may, he 
will find enough to damp his ardor. His wagons will 
stick in the mud ; his horses will break loose ; harness 
will give way ; and axle-trees prove unsound. His bed 
will be a soft one, consisting often of black mud of the 
richest consistency. As for food, he must content him 
self with biscuit and salt provisions ; for, strange as it maj 
seem, this tract of country produces very little game. As 
he advances, indeed, he will see, mouldering in the grass 
oy his path, the vast antlers of the elk, and farther on 
the whitened skulls of the buffalo, once swarming over 
this now deserted region. Perhaps, like us, he may jour 
ney for a fortnight, and see not so much as the hoof-print 
of a deer ; in the spring, not even a prairie-hen is to Ix 
had. 



32 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

Yet, to compensate him for this uulooked-for deficiency 
of game, he will find himself beset with " varmints " innu 
merable. The wolves will entertain him with a concert 
at night, and skulk around him by day, just beyond rifle- 
shot ; his horse will step into badger-holes ; from every 
marsh and mud-puddle will arise the bellowing, croaking 
and trilling of legions of frogs, infinitely various in color, 
shape, and dimensions. A profusion of snakes will glide 
away from under his horse's feet, or quietly visit him m 
his tent at night ; while the pertinacious humming of un- 
numbered mosquitoes will banish sleep from his eyelids. 
When thirsty with a long ride in the scorching sun over 
some boundless reach of prairie, he comes at length to a 
pool of water, and alights to drink, he discovers a troop 
of young tadpoles sporting in the bottom of his cup. Add 
to this, that, all the morning, the sun beats upon him with 
a sultry, penetrating heat, and that, with provoking regu 
larity, at about four o'clock in the afternoon, a thunder- 
storm rises and drenches him to the skin. 

One day, after a protracted morning's ride, we stopped 
to rest at noon upon the open prairie. No trees were in 
sight ; but close at hand a little dribbling brook was 
twisting from side to side through a hollow ; now forming 
holes of stagnant water, and now gliding over the mud in 
a scarcely perceptible current, among a growth of sickly 
bushes, and great clumps of tall rank grass. The day 
was excessively hot and oppressive. The horses and mules 
were rolling on the prairie to refresh themselves, or feed- 
ing among the bushes in the hollow. We had dined ; and 
Deslauriers, puffing at his pipe, knelt on the grass, scrub- 
bing our service of tin-plate. Shaw lay in the shade, 
under the cart, to rest for awhile, before the word should 
be given to " catch up.'' Henry Chatillon, before lying 
down, was looking about for signs of snakes, the oidy liv- 



"JUMPING OFF." 33 

ing things that he feared, and uttering various ejaculations 
of disgust at finding several suspicious-looking holes 
close to the cart. I sat leaning against the wheel in a 
scanty strip of shade, making a pair of hobbles to replace 
those which my contumacious steed Pontiac had broken 
the night before. The camp of our friends, a rod or two 
distant, presented the same scene of lazy tranquillity. 

" Hallo I " cried Henry, looking up from his inspection 
of the snake-holes, '' here comes the old Captain." 

The Captain approached, and stood for a moment con- 
templating us in silence. 

" I say, Parkman," he began, " look at Shaw there, 
asleep under the cart, with the tar dripping oif the hub of 
the wheel on his shoulder." 

At this Shaw got up, with his eyes half opened, and 
feeling the part indicated, found his hand glued fast to his 
red flannel shirt. 

"He'll look well, when he gets among the squaws, 
won't he ? " observed the Captain, with a grin. 

He then crawled under the cart, and began to tell 
stories, of which his stock was inexhaustible. Yet every 
moment he would glance nervously at the horses. At 
last he jumped up in great excitement. " See that horse ! 
There — that fellow just walking over the hill ! By Jove ! 
he's off. It's your big horse, Shaw ; no it isn't, it's Jack's. 
Jack! Jack! hallo. Jack!" Jack, thus invoked, jumped 
up and stared vacantly at us. 

" Go and catch your horse, if you don't want to lose 
him," roared the Captain. 

Jack instantly set off at a run through the grass, his 
broad trousers flapping ibout his feet. The Captain 
gazed anxiously till he saw that the horse was caught ; 
then he sat down, with a countenance of thoughtfulnesa 

and care. 

a 



34 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

" 1 tell you what it is," he said, 'this wiL never do at 
all. We shall lose every horse in the band some day or 
other, and then a pretty plight we should be in ! Now 1 
am convinced that the only way for us is to have every 
man in the camp stand horse-guard in rotation whenever 
we stop. Supposing a hundred Pawnees should jump up 
out of that ravine, all yelling and flapping their buffalo 
robes, in the way they do ! Why, in two minutes, not a 
hoof would be in sight." We reminded the Captain that 
a hundred Pawnees would probably demolish the horse- 
guard if he were to resist their depredations. 

'* At any rate," pursued the Captain, evading the point, 
" our whole system is wrong ; I'm convinced of it ; it is 
totally unmilitary. Why, the way we travel, strung out 
over the prairie for a mile, an enemy might attack the 
foremost men, and cut them off before the rest could 
come up." 

*' We are not in an enemy's country yet," said Shaw ; 
'• when we are, we'll travel together." 

'' Then," said the Captain, "we might be attacked in 
camp. We've no sentinels ; we 'camp in disorder ; no 
precautions at all to guard against surprise. My own 
convictions are, that' we ought to 'camp in a hollow- 
square, with the fires in the centre ; and have sentinels, 
and a regular password appointed for every night. Beside, 
there should be videttes, riding in advance, to find a place 
for the camp and give warning of an enemy. These are 
my convictions. I don't want to dictate to any man. I 
give advice to the best of my judgment, that's all ; and 
then let people do as they please." 

His plan of sending out videttes seemed particularly 
dear to him ; and as no one else was disposed to second 
his views on this point, he took it into his head to ride 
forward that afternoon himself. 



" JUMPING OFF. 35 

" Come, Parkman," said he, " will you go with me?" 

We set out together, and rode a mile or two in advance. 
The Captain, in the course of twenty years' service in the 
British army, had seen something of life ; and being 
naturally a pleasant fellow, he was a very entertaining 
companion. He cracked jokes and told stories for an 
hour or two ; until, looking back, w^e saw the prairie behind 
us stretching away to the horizon, without a horseman or 
a wagon in sight. 

" Now," said the Captain, *' I think the videttes had 
better stop till the main body comes up." 

I was of the same opinion. There was a thick growth 
of woods just before us, with a stream running through 
them. Having crossed this, we found on the other side 
a level meadow, half encircled by the trees ; and, fasten 
ing our horses to some bushes, we sat down on the grass, 
while, with an old stump of a tree for a target, I began 
to display the superiority of the renowned rifle of the 
backwoods over the foreign innovation borne by the Cap- 
tain. At length voices could be heard in the distance, 
behind the trees. 

" There they come," said the Captain ; " let's go and 
see how they get through the creek." 

We mounted and rode to the bank of the stream, where 
the trail crossed it. It ran in a deep hollow, full of trees. 
As we looked down, we saw a confused crowd of horse- 
men riding through the water; and among the dingy 
habiliments of our party glittered the uniforms of four 
dragoons. 

Shaw came whipping his horse up the bank, in advance 
of the rest, with a somewhat indignant countenance. The 
first word he spoke was a blessing fervently invoked on 

the head of K , who was riding, with a crest-fallen 

air, in the rear Thanks to the ingenious devices of this 



36 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

gentleman, we had missed the track entirely, and wand- 
ered, not towards the Platte, but to the village of the Iowa 
Indians. This we learned from the dragoons, who had 
lately deserted from Fort Leavenworth. They told us 
that our best plan now was to keep to the northward until 
we should strike the trail formed by several parties of 
Oregon emigrants, who had that season set out from St. 
Joseph, in Missouri. 

In extremely bad temper, we encamped on this ill 
starred spot, while the deserters, whose case admitted of 
no delay, rode rapidly forward. On the day following, 
striking the St. Joseph's trail, we turned our horses' heads 
towards Fort Laramie, then about seven hundred miles to 
the westward. 



CHAPTER V. 

THE "BIG BLUE." 

nnHE great medley of Oregon and California emigranta 
-■- at their camps around Independence had heard re- 
ports that several additional parties were on the point ol 
setting out from St. Joseph farther to the northward. 
The prevailing impression was, that these were Mormons, 
twenty-three hundred in number ; and a great alarm was 
excited in consequence. The people of Illinois and Mis- 
souri, who composed by far the greater part of the emi- 
grants, have never been on the best terms with the " Latter 
Day Saints ; " and it is notorious throughout the country 
how much blood has been spilt in their feuds, even far 
within the limits of the settlements. No one could pre- 
dict what would be the result, when large armed bodies 
of these fanatics should encounter the most impetuous and 
reckless of their old enemies on the broad prairie, far 
beyond the reach of law or military force. The women 
and children at Independence raised a great outcry ; the 
men themselves were seriously alarmed ; and, as I learned, 
they sent to Colonel Kearney, requesting an escort of 
dragoons as far as the Platte. This was refused ; and, as 
the sequel proved, there was no occasion for it. The 
St. Joseph emigrants were as good Christians and as zeal- 
ous Mormon-haters as the rest ; and the very few families 
of the " Saints " who passed out this season by the route 



38 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

of the Platte remained behind until the great tide of emt' 
gration had gone by, standing in quite as much awe of 
the " gentiles " as the latter did of them. 
' We were now upon this St. Joseph trail. It was evi- 
dent, by the traces, that large parties were a few days in 
advance of us ; and as we too supposed them to be Moi"*- 
mons, we had some apprehension of interruption. 

The journey was monotonous. One day we rode on 
for hours, without seeing a tree or a bush : before, be- 
hind, and on either side, stretched the vast expanse, roll- 
ing in a succession of graceful swells, covered with the 
unbroken carpet of fresh green grass. Here and there 
a crow, a raven, or a turkey-buzzard, relieved the uni- 
formity. 

" What shall we do to-night for wood and water ? " wo 
began to ask of each other ; for the sun was within an 
hour of setting. At length a dark green speck appeared, 
far off on the right : it was the top of a tree, peering 
over a swell of the prairie ; and, leaving the trail, we made 
all haste towards it. It proved to be the vanguard of a 
cluster of bushes and low trees, that surrounded some 
pools of water in an extensive hollow ; so we encamped 
on the rising ground near it. 

Shaw and I were sitting in the tent, when Des^auriers 
thrust his brown face and old felt hat into the ojiening, 
and, dilating his eyes to their utmost extent, announced 
supper. There were the tin cups and the iron spoons, 
arranged in order on the grass, and the coffee-pot pre 
dominant in the midst. The meal was soon dispatched , 
but Henry Cliatillon still sat cross-legged, dallying with 
the remnant of his coffee, the beverage in universal use 
upon the prairie, and an especial favorite with him. He 
preferred it in its virgin flavor, unimpaired by sugar or 
cream; and on the present occasion it met his entire 



THE " BIG BLUE." 39 

approral, being exceedingly strong, or, as he expressed it, 
" right black." 

It was a gorgeous sunset ; and the ruddy glow of the 
sky was reflected from some extensive pools of water 
among the shadowy copses in the meadow below. 

" I must have a bath to-night," said Shaw. " How 
is it, Deslauriers? Any chance for a swim down 
there ? " 

"Ah! I cannot tell ; just as you please, Monsieur," re- 
plied Deslauriers, shrugging his shoulders, perplexed by 
his ignorance of English, and extremely anxious to con- 
form in all respects to the opinions and wishes of his 
bourgeois. 

" Look at his moccasin," said I. It had evidently been 
lately immersed in a profound abyss of black mud. 

" Come," said Shaw ; " at any rate we can see for our 
selves." 

We set out together ; and as we approached the bushes, 
which were at some distance, we found the giound becom- 
ing rather treacherous. We could only get along by 
stepping upon large clumps of tall rank grass, with fathom- 
less gulfs between, like innumerable little quaking islands 
in an ocean of mud, where a false step would have in- 
volved our boots in a catastrophe like that which had 
befallen Deslauriers's moccasins. The thing looked des- 
perate ; we separated, to search in different directions, 
Shaw going off to the right, while I kept Ftraight for- 
ward. At last I came to the edge of the bushes, — they 
were young water-willows, covered with their caterpillar- 
like blossoms, but intervening between them and the last 
grass clump was a black and deep slough, over which, by 
a vigorous exertion, I contrived to jump. Then I shoul- 
dered my way through the willows, trampling them down 
bv main force, till I came to a wide stream of water, 



40 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

three inches deep, languidly creeping along ever a bottom 
of sleek mud. My arrival produced a great conunotion. 
A huge green bull-frog uttered an indignant croak, and 
jumped'off the bank with a loud splash ; his webbed feet 
twinkled above tlie surface, as he jerked them energeti- 
cally upward, and I could see him ensconcing himself in 
the unresisting slime at the bottom, whence several J urge 
air-bubbles struggled lazily to the top. Some little spot- 
ted frogs followed the patriarch's example ; and then three 
turtles, not larger than a dollar, tumbled themselves off a 
broad " lily pad," where they had been reposing. At the 
same time a snake, gayly striped with black and yellow, 
glided out from the bank, and writhed across to the other 
side ; and a small stagnant pool into which my foot had 
inadvertently pushed a stone was instantly alive with a 
congregation of black tadpoles. 

" Any chance for a bath where you are ? " called out 
Shaw, from a distance. 

The answer was not encouraging. I retreated through 
the willows, and rejoining my companion, we proceeded to 
push our researches in company. Not far on the right, a 
rising ground, covered with trees and bushes, seemed to 
sink down abruptly to the water, and give hope of better 
success ; so towards this we directed our steps. When 
we reached the place we found it no easy matter to get 
along between the hill and the water, impeded as we were 
by a growth of stiff, obstinate young birch-trees, laced 
together by grape-vines. In the twilight we now and 
then, to support ourselves, snatched at the touch-me-not 
stem of some ancient sweetbrier. Shaw, who was in 
advance, suddenly uttered an emphatic monosyllable ; and, 
looking up, I saw him with one hand grasping a sapling, 
and one foot immersed in the water, from which he had 
forgotten to withdraw it, his whole attention being engaged 



THE "• BIG BLUE." 4:1 

In contemplating the movements of a water-snake, about 
five feet long, curiously checkered with black and green, 
who was deliberately swimming across the pool. There 
being no stick or stone at hand to pelt him with, we looked 
at him for a time in silent disgust, and then pushed for- 
ward. Our perseverance was at last rewarded ; for, seve- 
ral rods farther on, we emerged upon a little level grassy 
nook among the brushwood, and by an extraordinary dis- 
pensation of fortune, the weeds and floating sticks, which 
elsewhere covered the pool, seemed to have drawn apart, 
and left a few yards of clear water just in front of this 
favored spot. We sounded it with a stick ; it was four 
feet deep : we lifted a specimen in our closed hands ; it 
seemed reasonably transparent, so we decided that the 
time for action was arrived. But our ablutions were sud- 
denly interrupted by ten thousand punctures, like poisoned 
needles, and the humming of myriads of overgrown mos- 
quitoes, rising in all directions from their native mud and 
swarming to the feast. We were fain to beat a retreat 
with all possible speed. 

We made towards the tents, much refreshed by the bath, 
which the heat of the weather, joined to our prejudices, 
had rendered very desirable. 

'' What's tlie matter with the Captain ? look at him ! " 
said Shaw. The Captain stood alone on the prairie, 
swinging his hat violently around his head, and lifting 
first one foot and then the other, without moving from the 
spot. First he looked down to the ground with an air of 
supreme abhorrence ; then he gazed upward with a per- 
plexed and indignant countenance, as if trying to trace 
the flight of an unseen enemy. We called to know what 
was the matter ; but he replied only by execrations di- 
rected against some unknown object. We approached, 
when our ears were saluted by a droning sound, as if 



4:2 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

twenty bee-hives had been overturned at once. The air 
above was full of large black insects, in a state of great 
commotion, and multitudes were flying about just above 
the tops of the grass-blades. 

" Don't be afraid," called the Captain, observing ua 
recoil. " The brutes won't sting." 

At this I knocked one down with my hat, and discovered 
him to be no other than a " dor-bug ; " and, looking closer, 
we found the ground thickly perforated with their holes. 

"We took a hasty leave of this flourishing colony, and 
walking up the rising ground to the tents, found Deslau- 
riers's fire still glowing brightly. We sat down around 
it, and Shaw began to expatiate on the admirable facili- 
ties for bathing that we had discovered, recommending 
the Captain by all means to go down there before break- 
fast in the morning. The Captain was in the act of 
remarking that he couldn't have believed it possible, when 
he suddenly interrupted himself, and clapped his hand to 
his cheek, exclaiming that " those infernal humbugs were 
at him again." In fact, we began to hear sounds as if 
bullets were humming over our heads. In a moment 
something rapped me sharply on the forehead, then upon 
the neck, and immediately I felt an indefinite number of 
sharp wiry claws in active motion, as if their owner were 
bent on pushing his explorations farther. I seized him, 
and dropped him into the fire. Our party speedily broke 
up, and we adjourned to our respective tents, where, clos- 
ing the opening fast, we hoped to be exempt from inva- 
sion. But all precaution was fruitless. The dor-bugs 
hummed through the tent, and marched over our faces 
until daylight ; when, opening our blankets, we found 
several dozen clinging there with the utmost tenacity. 
The first object that met our eyes in the morning was 
Deslauriers, who seemed to be apostrophizing his frying 



THE " BIG BLUE. ' 43 

pan, which he held by the handle, at arm's length. It 
appeared that he had left it at night by the fire ; and the 
bottom was now covered with dor-bugs, firmly imbedded. 
Hundreds of others, curiously parched and shrivelled, lay 
scattered among the ashes. 

The horses and mules were turned loose to feed. We 
had just taken our seats at breakfast, or rather reclined in 
the classic mode, when an exclamation from Henry Chatil- 
lon, and a shout of alarm from the Captain, gave warning 
of some casualty, and looking up, we saw the whole band 
of animals, twenty-three in number, filing off for the set- 
tlements, the incorrigible Pontiac at their head, jumping 
along with hobbled feet, at a gait much more rapid than 
graceful. Three or four of us ran to cut them off, dash- 
ing as best we might through the tall grass, which was 
glittering with dew-drops. After a race of a mile or more, 
Shaw caught a horse. Tying the trail-rope by way of 
bridle round the animal's jaw, and leaping upon his back, 
he got in advance of the remaining fugitives, while we, 
soon bringing them together, drove them in a crowd up to 
the tents, where each man caught and saddled his own. 
Then were heard lamentations and curses ; for half the 
horses had broke their hobbles, and many were seriously 
galled by attempting to run in fetters. 

It was late that morning before we were on the march ; 
and early in the afternoon we were compelled to encamp, 
for a thunder-gust came up and suddenly enveloped us in 
whirling sheets of rain. With much ado we pitched our 
tents amid the tempest, and all night long the thunder 
bellowed and growled over our heads. In the morning 
light peaceful showers succeedoi the cataracts of rain, 
that had been drenching us through the canvas of our 
tents. About noon, when there were some treacherous 
indications of fair weather, we got in motion again 



44 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

Not a breath of air stirred over the free and open prairie ; 
the clouds were like light piles of cotton ; and where the 
blue skj was visible, it wore a hazy and languid aspect. 
The sun beat down upon us with a sultry, penetrating 
heat almost insupportable, and as our party crept slowly 
along over the interminable level, the horses hung their 
heads as they waded fetlock deep through the mud, and 
the men slouched into the easiest position upon the sad- 
dle. At last, towards evening, the old familiar black heads 
of thunder-clouds rose fast above the horizon, and the 
same deep muttering of distant thunder that had become 
the ordinary accompaniment of our afternoon's journey 
began to roll hoarsely over the prairie. Only a few min- 
utes elapsed before the whole sky was densely shrouded, 
and the prairie and some clusters of woods in front as- 
sumed a purple hue beneath the inky shadows. Suddenly 
from the densest fold of the cloud the flash leaped out, 
quivering again and again down to the edge of the prairie ; 
and at the same instant came the sharp burst and the 
long rolling peal of the thunder. A cool wind, filled with 
the smell of rain, just then overtook us, levelling the tall 
grass by the side of the path. 

" Come on ; we must ride for it ! " shouted Shaw, rush 
ing by at full speed, his led horse snorting at his side. 
The whole party broke into full gallop, and made for the 
trees in front. Passing these, we found beyond them a 
meadow which they half inclosed. We rode pell-mell 
upon the ground, leaped from horseback, tore off our sad- 
dles ; and in a moment each man was kneeling at his 
horse's feet. The hobbles were adjusted, and the animals 
turned loose ; then, as the wagons came wheeling rapidly 
to the spot, we seized upon the tent-poles, and just as the 
storm broke, we were prepared to receive it. It came 
upon us almost with the darkness of night; the trees, 



THE " BIG BLUE." 45 

wliich were close at hand, were completely shrouded by 
the roaring torrents of rain. 

We were sitting in the tent when Deslauriers, with his 
broad felt hat hanging about his ears, and his shoulders 
glistening with rain, thrust in his head. 

" Youlez vous du souper, tout de suite ? I can make fire, 
sous la charette — I b'lieve so — I try." 

"Never mind supper, man ; come in out of the rain." 

Deslauriers accordingly crouched in the entrance, for 
modesty would not permit him to intrude farther. 

Our tent was none of the best defence against such a 
cataract. The rain could not enter bodily, but it beat 
through the canvas in a fine drizzle, that wetted us just as 
effectually. We sat upon our saddles with faces of the ut- 
most surliness, while the water dropped from the vizors of 
our caps, and trickled down our cheeks. My india-rubber 
cloak conducted twenty little rapid streamlets to the 
ground ; and Shaw's blanket coat was saturated like a 
sponge. But what most concerned us was the sight of 
several puddles of water rapidly accumulating; one, in par- 
ticular, that was gathering around the tent-pole, threatened 
to overspread the whole area within the tent, holding forth 
but an indifferent promise of a comfortable night's rest. 
Towards sunset, however, the storm ceased as suddenly as 
it began. A bright streak of clear red sky appeared above 
the western verge of the prairie, the horizontal rays of 
the sinking sun streamed through it, and glittered in a 
thousand prismatic colors upon the dripping groves and 
the prostrate grass. The pools in the tent dwindled and 
sunk into the saturated soil. 

But all our hopes were delusive. Scarcely had night 
set in when the tumult broke forth anew. The thunder 
here is not like the tame thunder of the Atlantic coast. 
Bursting ^th a terrific crash directly above our heads, it 



46 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

roared over the boundless waste of prairie, seeming to roli 
around the whole circle of the firmament with a peculiar 
and awful reverberation. The lightning flashed all night, 
playing with its livid glare upon the neighboring trees, 
revealing the vast expanse of the plain, and then leaving 
us shut in as if by a palpable wall of darkness. 

It did not disturb us much. Now and then a peaJ 
awakened us, and made us conscious of the electric battle 
that was raging, and of the floods that dashed upon the 
stanch canvas over our heads. We lay upon india-rubber 
cloths, placed between our blankets and the soil. For a 
while they excluded the water to admiration ; but when at 
length it accumulated and began to run over the edges, 
they served equally well to retain it, so that towards the 
end of the night we were unconsciously reposing in small 
pools of rain. 

On finally awaking in the morning the prospect was 
not a cheerful one. The rain no longer poured in tor- 
rents ; but it pattered with a quiet pertinacity upon the 
strained and saturated canvas. We disengaged ourselves 
from our blankets, every fibre of which glistened with 
little bead-like drops of water, and looked out in the vain 
hope of discovering some token of fair weather. The 
clouds, in lead-colored volumes, rested upon the dismal 
verge of the prairie, or hung sluggishly overhead, while 
the earth wore an aspect no more attractive than the 
heavens, exhibiting nothing but pools of water, grass 
beaten down, and mud well trampled by our mules and 
horses. Our companions' tent, with an air of forlorn and 
passive misery, and their wagons in like manner drenched 
and woe-begone, stood not far off. The Captain was just 
returning from his morning's inspection of the horses. 
He stalked through the mist and rain, with his plaid 
around his shoulders, his little pipe, dingy as an antiqua 



47 



nan relic, projecting from beneath his moustache, and his 
brotlier Jack at his heels. 

At noon the sky was clear, and we set out, trailing 
through mud and slime six inches deep. That night we 
were spared the customary infliction of the shower-bath. 

On the next afternoon we were moving slowly along, 
not far from a patch of woods which lay on the right, 
Jack C= rode a little in advance, — 

" The livelong day he had not spoke ; " 

when suddenly he faced about, pointed to the woods, and 
roared out to his brother, — 

''OBill! here's a cow." 

The Captain instantly galloped forward, and he and 
Jack made a vain attempt to capture the prize ; but the 
cow, with a well-grounded distrust of their intentions, 

took refuge among the trees. R joined them, and they 

soon drove her out. We watched their evolutions as thej 
galloped around her, trying in vain to noose her with theii 
trail-ropes, which they had converted into lariettes for the 
occasion. At length they resorted to milder measures, 
and the cow was driven along with the party. Soon after 
the usual thunder-storm came up, the wind blowing with 
such fury that the streams of rain flew almost horizontally 
along the prairie, roaring like a cataract. The horsea 
turned tail to the storm, and stood hanging their heads, 
bearing the infliction with an air of meekness and resig- 
nation ; while we drew our heads between our shoulders^ 
and crouched forward, so as to make our backs serve as a 
pent-house for the rest of our persons. Meanwhile the 
cow, taking advantage of the tumult, ran off, to the great 
discomfiture of the Captain. In defiance of the storm, 
he pulled his cap tight over his brows, jerked a huge 
buffalo-pibtrl from his holster, and set out at full speed 



48 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

after her. This was the last we saw of them for some 
time, the mist and rain making an impenetrable veil, 
but at length we heard the Captain's shout, and saw him 
looming through the tempest, the picture of a Hibernian 
cavalier, with his cocked pistol held aloft for safety's sake, 
and a countenance of anxiety and excitement. The cow 
trotted before him, but exhibited evident signs of an in- 
tention to run off again, and the Captain was roaring to 
us to head her. But the rain had got in behind our coat 
collars, and was travelling over our necks in numerous 
little streamlets, and being afraid to move our heads, for 
fear of admitting more, we sat stiff and immovable, look- 
ing at the Captain askance, and laughing at his frantic 
movements. At last the cow made a sudden plunge and 
ran off; the Captain grasped his pistol firmly, spurred his 
horse, and galloped after, with evident designs of mis- 
chief. In a moment we heard the faint report, deadened 
by the rain, and then the conqueror and his victim reap- 
peared, the latter shot through the body, and quite help 
less. Not long after, the storm moderated, and we 
advanced again. The cow walked painfully along undei 
the charge of Jack, to whom the Captain had committed 
her, while he himself rode forward in his old capacity of 
vidette. We were approaching a long line of trees, that 
followed a stream stretching across our path, far in front, 
when we beheld the vidette galloping towards us appar- 
ently much excited, but with a broad grin on his face. 

" Let that cow drop behind ! " he shouted to us ; " here's 
her owners." 

And, in fact, as we approached the line of trees, a large 
white object, like a tent, was visible behind them. On 
approaching, however, we found, instead of the expected 
Mormon camp, nothing but the lonely prairie, and a large 
white rock standing by the path. The cow, therefore, 



THE " BIG BLUE." 49 

resumed her place in our procession. She walked on 

until we encamped, when R , approaching with his 

English double-barrelled rifle, took aim at her heart, and 
discharged into it first one bullet and then the other. She 
was then butchered on the most approved principles of 
woodcraft, and furnished a very welcome item to our 
somewhat limited bill of fare. 

In a day or two more we reached the river called the 
*' Big Blue." By titles equally elegant, almost all the 
streams of this region are designated. We had struggled 
through ditches and little brooks all that morning ; but 
on traversing the dense woods that lined the banks of the 
Blue, we found that more formidable difiicuities awaited 
us, for the stream, swollen by the rains, was wide, deep, 
and rapid. 

No sooner were we on the spot than R flung off 

»iis clothes, and swam across, or splashed through the 
shallows, with the end of a rope between his teeth. We 
all looked on in admiration, wondering what might be 
the object of this energetic preparation ; but soon we 
heard him shouting : " Give that rope a turn round that 
stump. You, Sorel ; do you hear ? Look sharp, now, 
Boisverd. Come over to this side, some of you, and help 
me." The men to whom these orders were directed paid 
not the least attention to them, though they were poured 
out without pause or intermission. Henry Chatillon di- 
rected the work, and it proceeded quietly and rapidly. 
R 's sharp brattling voice might have been heard in- 
cessantly ; and he was leaping about with the utmost 
activity. His commands were rather amusingly incon- 
sistent ; for when he saw that the men would not do as 
ne told them, he accommodated himself to circumstances, 
and with the utmost vehemence ordered them to do pre- 
cisely that which they were at tlie time engaged upon, no 



50 THE OREGON TRAIL 

doubt recollecting the story of Mahomet and the refi actor j 
mountain. Shaw smiled ; R observed it, and, ap- 
proaching with a countenance of indignation, began to 
vapor a little, but was instantly reduced to silence. 

The raft was at length complete. We piled our goods 
upon it, with the exception of our guns, which each man 
chose to retain in his own keeping. Sorel, Boisverd, 
Wright, and Deslauriers took their stations at the four 
corners, to hold it together, and swim across with it ; and 
in a moment more all our earthly possessions were float- 
ing on the turbid waters of the Big Blue. We sat on the 
bank, anxiously watching the result, until we saw the raft 
safe landed in a little cove far down on the opposite bank. 
The empty wagons were easily passed across ; and then, 
each man mounting a horse, we rode through the stream, 
the stray animals following of their own accord. 



CHAPTER VI. 

THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT. 

TT yE were now at the end of our solitary journey 
^ ^ ings along the St. Joseph trail. On the evening 
of the twenty-third of May we encamped near its junction 
with the old legitimate trail of the Oregon emigrants. 
We had ridden long that afternoon, trying in vain to 
find wood and water, until at length we saw the sunset 
sky reflected from a pool encircled by bushes and rocks. 
The water lay in the bottom of a hollow, the smooth 
prairie gracefully rising in ocean-like swells on every 
side. We pitched our tents by it ; not however before 
the keen eye of Henry Chatillon had discerned some 
unusual object upon the faintly-defined outline of the 
distant swell. But in the moist, hazy atmosphere of 
the evening, nothing could be clearly distinguished. As 
we lay around the fire after supper, a low and distant 
sound, strange enough amid the loneliness of the prairie, 
reached our ears — peals of laughter, and the faint voices 
of men and women. For eight days we had not en- 
countered a human being, and this singular warning of 
their vicinity had an effect extremely impressive. 

About dark a sallow-faced fellow descended the hill on 
horseback, and splashing through the pool, rode up to the 
tents. He was enveloped in a huge cloak, and his broad 
felt hat was weeping about his ears with the drizzling 
moisture of the evening. Another followed, a stout, square- 



52 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

built, intelligent-looking man, who announced himself as 
leader of an emigrant party, encamped a mile in advance 
of us. About twenty wagons, he said, were with him ; 
the rest of his party were on the other side of the Big 
Blue, waiting for a woman who was in the pains of child 
birth, and quarrelling meanwhile among themselves. 

These were the first emigrants that we had overtaken, 
although we had found abundant and melancholy traces 
of their progress throughout the course of the journey. 
Sometimes we passed the grave of one who had sickened 
and died on the way. The earth was usually torn up, 
and covered thickly with wolf-tracks. Some had escaped 
this violation. One morning, a piece of plank, standing 
upright on the summit of a grassy hill, attracted our 
notice, and riding up to it, we found the following words 
very roughly traced upon it, apparently with a red-hot 
piece of iron : — 

MARY ELLIS. 

DIED MAT 7th, 1846. 

AGED TWO MONTHS. 

Such tokens were of common occurrence. 

We were late in breaking up our camp on the follow- 
ing morning, and scarcely had we ridden a mile when we 
saw, far in advance of us, drawn against the horizon, a 
line of objects stretching at regular intervals along the 
level edge of the prairie. An intervening swell soon hid 
them from sight, until, ascending it a quarter of an hour 
after, we saw close before us the emigrant caravan, with 
its heavy white wagons creeping on in slow procession, and 
a large drove of cattle following behind.* Half a dozen 
yellow-visagcd Missourians, mounted on horseback, were 
cursing and shouting among them, their lank angular 
proportions enveloped in brown homespun, evidently cut 



THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT. 53 

and adjusted by the hands of a domestic female tailor. 
As we approached, they called out to us : " How are ye, 
ooys ? Are ye for Oregon or California ? " 

As we pushed rapidly by the wagons, children's faces 
were thrust out from the white coverings to look at us ; 
while the care-worn, thin-featured matron, or the buxom 
girl, seatv3d in front, suspended the knitting on which 
most of them were engaged to stare at us with wonder- 
ing curiosity. By the side of each wagon stalked the 
proprietor, urging on his patient oxen, who shouldered 
heavily along, inch by inch, on their interminable jour- 
ney. It was easy to see that fear and dissension prevailed 
among them; some of the men — but these, with one 
exception, were bachelors — looked wistfully upon us as 
we rode lightly and swiftly by, and then impatiently at 
their own lumbering wagons and heavy-gaited oxen 
Others were unwilling to advance at all, until the party 
they had left behind should have rejoined them. Many 
were murmuring against the leader they had chosen, and 
wished to depose him ; and this discontent was fomented 
by some ambitious spirits, who had hopes of succeeding 
in his place. The women were divided between regrets 
for the homes they had left and fear of the deserts and 
savages before them. 

We soon left them far behind, and hoped that we had 
taken a final leave ; but our companions' wagon stuck so 
long in a deep muddy ditch, that before it was extricated 
:he van of the emigrant caravan appeared again, descend- 
ing a ridge close at hand. Wagon after wagon plunged 
through the mud ; and as it was nearly noon, and the 
place promised shade and water, we saw, with satisfaction 
that they were resolved to encamp. Soon the wagons 
were wheeled into a circle: the cattle were grazing over 
the meadow, and the men, with sour, sullen faces, were 



54 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

.ooking about for wood and water. They seemed to meet 

but indifierent success. As we left the ground, I saw a 

tall, slouching fellow, with the nasal accent of " down 

east," contemplating the contents of his tin cup, which he 

had just filled with water. 

"Look here, you," said he ; "its chock-full of animals!" 

The cup, as he held it out, exhibited in fact an extraor- 

iinary variety and profusion of animal and vegetable life. 

Riding up the little hill, and looking back on the 

meadow, we could easily see that all was not right in the 

camp of the emigrants. The men were crowded together, 

and an angry discussion seemed to be going forward. 

R was missing from his wonted place in the line, and 

tlie Captain told us that he had remained behind to get 
his horse shod by a blacksmith attached to the emigrant 
party. Something whispei^ed in our ears that mischiel 
was on foot ; we kept on, however, and coming soon to a 
stream of tolerable water, we stopped to rest and dine. 
Still the absentee lingered behind. At last, at the distance 
of a mile, he and his horse suddenly appeared, sharply 
defined against tlie sky on the summit of a hill ; and close 
behind, a huge white object rose slowly into view. 
" What is that blockhead bringing with him now ? " 
A moment dispelled the mystery. Slowly and solemnly, 
one behind the other, four long trains of oxen and four 
emigrant wagons rolled over the crest of the hill and 

gravely descended, while R rode in state in the van. 

It seems, that during the process of shoeing the horsCj 
the smothered dissensions among the emigrants suddenly 
broke into open rupture. Some insisted on pushing for 
ward, some on remaining where they were, and some on 
going back. Kearsley, their captain, threw up his com- 
mand in disgust. " And now, boys," said he, " if any of 
you are for going ahead, just you come along with me.*' 



THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT. 5,^ 

Four wagons, with ten men, one woman, and one small 
child, made up the force of the " go-ahead " faction, and 

R , with his usual proclivity toward mischief, invited 

them to join our party. Fear of the Indians — for I can 
conceive no other motive — must have induced him to 
court so burdensome an alliance. At all events, the pro- 
ceeding was a cool one. The men who joined us, it is 
true, were all that could be desired ; rude indeed in man 
ners, but frank, manly, and intelligent. To tell them we 
could not travel with them was out of the question. I 
merely reminded Kearsley that if his oxen could not keep 
up with our mules he must expect to be left behind, as we 
could not consent to be farther delayed on the journey ; 
but he immediately replied, that his oxen " should keep 
up ; and if they couldn't, why, he allowed, he'd find out 
how to make 'em." 

On th<^ next day, as it chanced, our English companions 
broke the axle-tree of their wagon, and down came the 
whole cumbrous machine lumbering into the bed of a 
brook. Here was a day's work cut out for us. Mean- 
while our emigrant associates kept on their way, and so 
vigorously did they urge forward their powerful oxen, 
that, what with the broken axle-tree and other mishaps, 
it was full a week before we overtook them ; when at 
length we discovered them, one afternoon, crawling 
quietly along the sandy brink of the Platte. But mean- 
while various incidents occurred to ourselves. 

It was probable that at this stage of our journey the 
Pawnees would attempt to rob us. We began therefore 
to stand guard in turn, dividing the night into three 
watches, and appointing two men for each. Deslauriers 
and I held guard together. We did not march wdth mili- 
tary precision to and fro before the tents : our discipline 
was by no means so strict. We wrapped ourselves in our 



56 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

olankets, and sat down by the fire ; and Deslauriers, coitt 
bining bis culinary functions with his duties as sentinel, 
employed himself in boiling the head of an antelope for 
our breakfast. Yet we were models of vigilance in com- 
parison with some of the party ; for the ordinary practice 
of the guard was to lay his rifle on the ground, and, 
enveloping his nose in his blanket, meditate on his mis- 
tress, or whatever subject best pleased him. This is 
all well enough when among Indians who do not habit- 
ually proceed further in their hostility than robbing 
travellers of their horses and mules, though, indeed, a 
Pawnee's forbearance is not always to be trusted ; but in 
certain regions farther to the west, the guard must beware 
how he exposes his person to the light of the fire, lest 
some keen-eyed skulking marksman should let fly a bullet 
or an arrow from the darkness. 

Among various tales that circulated around our camp- 
fire was one told by Boisverd, and not inappropriate here. 
He was trapping with several companions on the skirts 
of the Blackfoot country. The man on guard, knowing 
that it behooved him to put forth his utmost precaution, 
kept aloof from the fire-light, and sat watching intently 
on all sides. At length he was aware of a dark, crouch- 
ing figure, stealing noiselessly into the circle of the light. 
He hastily cocked his rifle, but the sharp click of the lock 
caught the ear of the Blackfoot, whose senses were all on 
the alert. Raising his arrow, already fitted to the string, 
he shot it in the direction of the sound. So sure was his 
aim, that he drove it through the throat of the unfor- 
tunate guard, and then, with a loud yell, bounded from 
the camp. 

As I looked at the partner of my watch, puffing and 
blowing over his fire, it occurred to me that he might not 
prove the most efficient auxiliary in time of trouble. 



THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT. 57 

" Deslauriers," said I, " would you run away if the Paw 
nees should fire at us ? " 

" Ah ! oui, oui, Monsieur ! " he replied very decisively. 

At this instant a whimsical variety of voices, — barks, 
howls, yelps, and whines, — all mingled together, sounded 
from the prairie, not far off, as if a conclave of wolves of 
every age and sex were assembled there. Deslauriers 
looked up from his work with a laugh, and began to imi 
tate this medley of sounds with a ludicrous accuracy. At 
this they were repeated with redoubled emphasis, the 
musician being apparently indignant at the successful 
efforts of a rival. They all proceeded from the throat of 
one little wolf, not larger than a spaniel, seated by him- 
self at some distance. He was of the species called the 
prairie-wolf: a grim-visaged, but harmless little brute, 
whose worst propensity is creeping among horses and 
gnawing the ropes of raw hide by which they are picketed 
around the camp. Other beasts roam the prairies, far 
more formidable in aspect and in character. These are 
the large white and gray wolves, whose deep howl we 
heard at intervals from far and near. 

At last I fell into a doze, and awaking from it, found 
Deslauriers fast asleep. Scandalized by this breach of 
discipline, I was about to stimulate his vigilance by stir- 
ring him with the stock of my rifle ; but, compassion pre- 
vailing, I determined to let him sleep a while, and then 
arouse him to administer a suitable reproof for such 
forgetfulness of duty. Now and then I walked the rounds 
among the silent horses, to see that all was right. The 
night was chill, damp, and dark, the dank grass bending 
under the icy dew-drops. At the distance of a rod or two 
the tents were invisible, and nothing could be seen but 
the obscure figures of the horses, deeply breathing, and 
restlessly starting as they slept, or still slowly champing 



58 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

the grass. Far off, beyond the black outline of the prairie, 
there was a ruddy light, gradually increasing, like the 
glow of a conflagration ; until at length the broad disk of 
the moon, blood-red, and vastly magnified by the vapors, 
rose slowly upon the darkness, flecked by one or two little 
clouds, and as the light poured over the gloomy plain, a 
fierce and stern howl, close at hand, seemed to greet it as 
an unwelcome intruder. There was something impressive 
and awful in the place and the hour ; for I and the beasts 
were all that had consciousness for many a league around. 

Some days elapsed, and brought us near the Platte. 
Two men on horseback approached us one morning, and 
we watched them with the curiosity and interest that, 
upon the solitude of the plains, such an encounter always 
excites. They were evidently whites, from their mode of 
riding, though, contrary to the usage of that region, neither 
of them carried a rifle. 

" Fools ! " remarked Henry Chatillon, " to ride that 
way on the prairie ; Pawnee find them — then they catch 
it." 

Pawnee had found them, and they had come very near 
'* catching it ; " indeed, nothing saved them but the ap- 
proach of our party. Shaw and I knew one of them, — a 
man named Turner, whom we had seen at Westport. He 
and his companion belonged to an emigrant party en- 
camped a few miles in advance, and had returned to look 
for some stray oxen, leaving their rifles, with character- 
istic rashness or ignorance, behind them. Their neglect 
had nearly cost them dear ; for, just before we came up, 
half a dozen Indians approached, and, seeing them ap- 
parently defenceless, one of the rascals seized the bridle 
of Turner's horse and ordered him to dismount. Tur- 
ner was wholly unarmed ; but the other jerked a pistol 
out of his pocket, a,t which the Pawnee recoiled ; and just 



THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT. 59 

then some of our men appearing in the distance, the whole 
party whipped their rugged little horses and made off. 
In no way daunted, Turner foolishly persisted in going 
forward. 

Long after leaving him, and late that afternoon, in the 
midst of a gloomy and barren prairie, we came suddenly 
upon the great trail of the Pawnees, leading from their 
villages on the Platte to their war and hunting grounds 
to the southward. Here every summer passes the motley 
concourse : thousands of savages, men, women, and chil- 
dren, horses and mules, laden with their weapons and im- 
plements, and an innumerable multitude of unruly wolfish 
dogs, who have not acquired the civilized accomplishment 
of barking, but howl like their wild cousins of the prairie. 

The permanent winter villages of the Pawnees stand 
on the lower Platte, but throughout the summer the 
greater part of the inhabitants are wandering over the 
plains, — a treacherous, cowardly banditti, who, by a thou- 
sand acts of pillage and murder, have deserved chastise- 
ment at the hands of government. Last year a Dah^jotah 
warrior performed a notable exploit at one of these vil- 
lages. He approached it alone, in the middle of a dark 
night, and clambering up the outside of one of the lodges, 
which are in the form of a half-sphere, looked in at the 
round hole made at the top for the escape of smoke. The 
dusky light from the embers showed him tlie forms of 
the sleeping inmates ; and dropping lightly through the 
opening, he unsheathed his knife, and, stirring the fire, 
coolly selected his victims. One by one, he staabed 
and scalped them ; when a child suddenly awoke and 
ricreamed. He rushed from the lodge, yelled a Sioux 
war-cry, shouted his name in triumph and defiance, and 
darted out upon the dark prairie, leaving the whole village 
behind him in a tumult, with the howling and baying of 



so THE OREGON TRAIL. 

dogs, the screams of women, and the yells of the enraged 
warriors. 

Our friend Kearsley, as we learned on rejoining him, 
signalized himself by a less bloody achievement. He and 
his men were good woodsmen, well skilled in the use of 
the rifle, but found themselves wholly out of their element 
on the prairie. None of them had ever seen a buffalo ; 
and they had very vague conceptions of his nature and 
appearance. On the day after they reached the Platte, 
looking towards a distant swell, they beheld a multitude 
of little black specks in motion upon its surface. 

" Take your rifles, boys," said Kearsley, " and we'll 
have fresh meat for supper." This inducement was quite 
sufficient. The ten men left their wagons, and set out in 
hot haste, some on horseback and some on foot, in pursuit 
of the supposed buffalo. Meanwhile a high, grassy ridge 
shut the game from view ; but mounting it after half an 
hour's running and riding, they found themselves suddenly 
confronted by about thirty mounted Pawnees. Amaze- 
ment and consternation were mutual. Having nothing but 
their bows and arrows, the Indians thought their hour was 
come, and the fate that they were conscious of richly 
deserving about to overtake them. So they began, one 
and all, to shout forth the most cordial salutations, run- 
ning up with extreme earnestness to shake hands with 
the Missourians, who were as much rejoiced as they were 
to escape the expected conflict. 

A low, undulating line of sand-hills bounded the horizon 
before us. That day we rode ten hours, and it was dusk 
before we entered the hollows and gorges of these gloomy 
little hills. At length we gained the summit, and the 
long-expected valley of the I'latte lay before us. - We all 
drew rein, and sat joyfully looking down upon the pros- 
pect. Tt was right welcome ; strange, too, and striking 



THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT. 61 

to the imagination, and yet it had not one picturesque or 
beautiful feature ; nor had it any of the features of gran- 
deur, other than its vast extent, its solitude, and its wild- 
ness. For league after league, a plain as level as a lake 
was outspread beneath us; here and there the Platte, 
divided into a dozen thread-like sluices, was traversing it, 
and an occasional clump of wood, rising in the midst like 
a shadowy island, relieved the monotony of the waste. No 
living thing was moving throughout the vast landscape^ 
except the lizards that darted over the sand and through 
the rank grass and prickly pears at our feet. 

We had passed the more tedious part of the journey ; 
but four hundred miles still intervened between us and 
Fort Laramie ; and to reach that point cost us the travel 
of three more weeks. During the whole of this time we 
were passing up the middle of a long, narrow, sandy plain, 
reaching like an outstretched belt nearly to the Rocky 
Mountains. Two lines of sand-hills, broken often into 
the wildest and most fantastic forms, flanked the valley 
at the distance of a mile or two on the right and left ; 
while beyond them lay a barren, trackless waste, extend- 
ing for hundreds of miles to the Arkansas on the one 
side, and the Missouri on the other. Before and beliind 
us, the level monotony of the plain was unbroken as far 
as the eye could reach. Sometimes it glared in the sun, 
an expanse of hot, bare sand ; sometimes it was veiled 
by long coarse grass. Skulls and whitening bones of 
buffalo were scattered everywhere ; the ground was 
tracked by myriads of them, and often covered with the 
circular indentations where the bulls had wallowed in the 
hot weather. From every gorge and ravine, opening 
from the hills, descended deep, well-worn paths, where 
the buffalo issue twice a day in regular procession to 
drink in the Platte. The river itself runs through the 



62 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

niidst, a thin sheet of rapid, turbid water, half a mile 
wide, and scarcely two feet deep. Its low banks, for the 
most part without a bush or a tree, are of loose sand, 
with which the stream is so charged that it grates on the 
teeth in drinking. The naked landscape is, of itself, 
dreary and monotonous enough ; and yet the wild beasts 
and wild men that frequent the valley of the Platte make 
it a scene of interest and excitement to the traveller. Of 
those who have journeyed there, scarcely one, perhaps, 
fails to look back with fond regret to his horse and his 
rifle. 

Early in the morning after we reached the Platte^a 
long procession of squalid savages approached ou* camp 
Each was on foot, leading his horse by a rope of bull-hide. 
His attire consisted merely of a scanty cincture, and an 
old buffalo robe, tattered and begrimed by use, which 
hung over his shoulders. His head was close shaven, 
except a ridge of hair reaching over the crown from the 
middle of the forehead, very much like the long bristles 
on the back of a hyena, and he carried his bow and 
arrows in his hand, while his meagre little horse was 
laden with dried buffalo meat, the produce of his hunting. 
Such were the first specimens that we met — and very 
indifferent ones they were — of the genuine savages of 
the prairie. 

They were the Pawnees whom Kearsley had encoun- 
tered the day before, and belonged to a large hunting 
party, known to be ranging the prairie in the vicinity. 
They strode rapidly by, within a furlong of our tents, not 
pausing or looking towards us, after the manner of In 
dians when meditating mischief, or conscious of ill desert. 
I went out to meet them, and had an amicable conference 
with the chief, presenting him with half a pound of 
tobacco, at which mimerited bounty he expressed mucl 



THE PLATTE AND THE DESERT. 63 

gratification. These fellows, or some of their com- 
panions, had committed a dastardly outrage upon an 
emigrant party in advance of us. Two men, at a dis- 
tance from the rest, were seized by them, but, lashing 
their horses, they broke away and fled. At this the 
Pawnees raised the yell and shot at them, transfixing the 
hindmost through the back with several arrows, while his 
companion galloped away and brought in the news to his 
party. The panic-stricken emigrants remained for several 
days in camp, not daring even to send out in quest of 
the dead body. 

Our New-England climate is mild and equable com 
pared with that of the Platte. This very morning, for 
instance, was close and sultry, the sun rising with a faint 
oppressive heat ; when suddenly darkness gathered in the 
west, and a furious blast of sleet and hail drove full in 
our faces, icy cold, and urged with such demoniac vehe- 
mence that it felt like a storm of needles. It was curious 
to see the horses ; they faced about in extreme dis- 
pleasure, holding their tails like whipped dogs, and shiv- 
ering as the angry gusts, howling louder than a concert 
of wolves, swept over us. Wright's long train of mules 
came sweeping round before the storm, like a flight of 
snow-birds driven by a winter tempest. Thus we all 
remained stationary for some minutes, crouching close to 
our horses' necks, much too surly to speak, though once 
the Captain looked up from between the collars of hia 
coat, his face blood-red, and the muscles of his mouth 
contracted by the cold into a most ludicrous grin of 
agony. He grumbled something that sounded like a 
curse, directed, as we believed, against the unhappy hour 
when he had first thought of leaving home. The thing 
was too good to last long ; and the instant the pufi*s of 
wind subsided we pitched our tents, and remained iu 



54 THE OREGON TRAIL 

camp for the rest of a gloomy and lowering day. The 
emigrants also encamped near at hand. We being first 
on the ground, had appropriated all the wood within 
reach ; so that our fire alone blazed cheerily. Around it 
soon gathered a group of uncouth figures, shivering in 
the drizzling rain. Conspicuous among them were two 
or three of the half-savage men who spend their reckless 
lives in trapping among the Rocky Mountains, or in trad 
ing for the Fur Company in the Indian villages. They 
were all of Canadian extraction; their hard, weather- 
beaten faces and bushy moustaches looked out from 
beneath the hoods of their white capotes with a bad and 
brutish expression, as if their owners might be the willing 
agents of any villany. And such in fact is the character 
of many of these men. 

On the day following we overtook Kearsley's wagons, 
and thenceforward, for a week or two, we were fellow- 
travellers. One good effect, at least, resulted from the 
alliance ; it materially diminished the fatigues of stand- 
ing guard ; for the party being now more numerous, there 
were longer intervals between each man's turns of duty. 



CHAPTER VII. 

THE BUFFALO. 

CpOUR days on the Platte, and yet no buffalo ! Last 
^ year's signs of them were provokingly abundant ; 
and wood being extremely scarce, we found an admirable 
substitute in the hois de vache, which burns like peat, pro- 
ducing no unpleasant effects. The wagons one morning 
had left the camp ; Shaw and I were already on horse- 
back, but Henry Chatillon still sat cross-legged by the 
dead embers of the fire, plapng pensively with the lock 
of his rifle, while his sturdy Wyandot pony stood quietly 
behind him, looking over his head. At last he got up, 
patted the neck of the pony (which, from an exagger- 
ated appreciation of his merits, he had christened " Five 
Hundred Dollar "), and then mounted, with a melancholy 
air. 

" What is it, Henry ? " 

" Ah, I feel lonesome ; I never been here before but 1 
see away yonder over the buttes, and down there on the 
prairie, black — all black with buffalo." 

In the afternoon he and I left the party in search of 
an antelope, until, at the distance of a mile or two on the 
right, the tall white wagons and the little black specks of 
horsemen were just visible, so slowly advancing that they 
seemed motionless ; and far on the left rose the broken 
line of scorched, desolate sand-hills. The vast plain 
waved with tall rank grass, that swept our horses' bellies ; 

6 



66 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

it swayed to and fro in billows with the light breeze, and 
far and near antelope and wolves were moving through 
it, the hairy backs of the latter alternately appearing and 
disappearing as they bounded awkwardly along ; while the 
antelope, with the simple curiosity peculiar to them, would 
often approach us closely, their little horns and white 
throats just visible above the grass tops, as they gazed 
eagerly at us with their round black eyes. 

I dismounted, and amused myself with firing at the 
wolves. Henry attentively scrutinized the surrounding 
landscape ; at length he gave a shout, and called on me 
to mount again, pointing in the direction of the sand- 
hills. A mile and a half from us two black specks 
slowly traversed the bare glaring face of one of them, 
and disappeared behind the summit. " Let us go ! " 
cried Henry, belaboring the sides of " Five Hundred Dol- 
lar ; " and I following in his wake, we galloped rapidly 
through the rank grass toward the base of the hills. 

From one of their openings descended a deep ravine, 
widening as it issued on the praii'ie. We entered it, and 
galloping up, in a moment were surrounded by the bleak 
sand-hills. Half of their steep sides were bare ; the rest 
were scantily clothed with clumps of grass, and various 
uncouth plants, conspicuous among which appeared the 
reptile-like prickly-pear. They were gashed with number- 
less ravines ; and as the sky had suddenly darkened, and 
a cold gusty wind arisen, the strange shrubs and the dreary 
hills looked doubly wild and desolate. But Henry's face 
was all eagerness. He tore off a little hair from the 
piece of buflfalo-robe under his saddle, and threw it up. to 
show the course of the wind. It blew directly before as. 
The game were therefore to windward, and it was neces 
nnry to make our best speed to get round them. 

We scrambled from this ravine, and, galloping awa^ 



THE BUFFALO. 61 

through the hollows, soon found another, winding like a 
snake among the hills, and so deep that it completely con- 
cealed us. We rode up the bottom of it, glancing through 
the bushes at its edge, till Henry abruptly jerked his 
rein, and slid out of his saddle. Full a quarter of a mile 
distant, on the outline of the farthest hill, a long proces- 
sion of buffalo were walking, in Indian file, with the 
utmost gravity and deliberation ; then more appeared, 
clambering from a hollow not far off, and ascending, one 
behind the other, the grassy slope of another hill ; then a 
shaggy head and a pair of short broken horns issued 
out of a ravine close at hand, and with a slow, stately 
step, one by one, the enormous brutes came into view, 
taking their way across the valley, wholly unconscious 
of an enemy. In a moment Henry was worming his 
way, lying flat on the ground, through grass and prickly- 
pears, towards his unsuspecting victims. He had with 
him both my rifle and his own. He was soon out of 
sight, and still the buffalo kept issuing into the valley. 
For a long time all was silent ; I sat holding his horse, 
and wondering what he was about, when suddenly, in 
rapid succession, came the sharp reports of the two rifles, 
and the whole line of buffalo, quickening their pace into 
a clumsy trot, gradually disappeared over the ridge of 
the hill. Henry rose to his feet, and stood looking after 
them. 

" You have missed them," said I. 

" Yes," said Henry ; " let us go." He descended into 
the ravine, loaded the rifles, and mounted his horse. 

We rode up the hill after the buffalo. The herd was 
out of sight when we reached the top, but lying on the 
grass, not far off, was one quite lifeless, and another vio- 
lently struggling in the death agony. 

"You see I miss him!" remarked Henry. He had 



68 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

fired from a distance of more than a hundred and fifty 
yards, and both balls had passed through the lungs, the 
true mark in shooting buffalo. 

The darkness increased, and a driving storm came on. 
Tying our horses to the horns of the victims, Henry began 
the bloody work of dissection, slashing away with the 
science of a connoisseur, while I vainly tried to imitate 
him. Old Hendrick recoiled with horror and indignation 
when I endeavored to tie the meat to the strings of raw 
hide, always carried for this purpose, dangling at the 
back of tne saddle. After some difficulty we overcame 
his scruples ; and, heavily burdened with the more eligible 
portions of the buffalo, we set out on our return. Scarcely 
had we emerged from the labyrinth of gorges and ravines, 
and issued upon the open prairie, when the prickling sleet 
came driving, gust upon gust, directly in our faces. It 
was strangely dark, though wanting still an hour of sun- 
set. The freezing storm soon penetrated to the skin, but 
the uneasy trot of our heavy-gaited horses kept us warm 
enough, as we forced them unwillingly in the teeth of 
the sleet and rain, by the powerful suasion of our Indian 
whips. The prairie in this place was hard and level. A 
flourishing colony of prairie-dogs had burrowed into it in 
every direction, and the little mounds of fresh earth 
around their holes were about as numerous as the hills in 
a corn-field ; but not a yelp was to be heard ; not the 
nose of a single citizen was visible ; all had retired to the 
depths of their burrows, and we envied them their dry 
and comfortable habitations. An hour's hard riding 
showed us our tent dimly looming through the storm, one 
side puffed out by the force of the wind, and the other 
collapsed in proportion, while the disconsolate horses 
stood shivering close around, and the wind kept up a dis- 
mal whistling in the boughs of three old half-dead trees 



THE BUFFALO. 69 

above. Shaw, like a patriarch, sat on his saddle in the 
entrance, with a pipe in his mouth and his arms folded, 
contemplating, with cool satisfaction, the piles of meat 
that we flung on the ground before him. A dark and 
dreary night succeeded ; but the sun rose, with a heat so 
sultry and languid that the Captain excused himself on 
that account from waylaying an old buffalo bull, who 
with stupid gravity was walking over the prairie to drink 
at the river. So much for the climate of the Platte. 

But it was not the weather alone that had produced 
this sudden abatement of the sportsman-like zeal which 
the Captain had always professed. He had been out on 
the afternoon before, together with several members of 
his party : but their hunting was attended with no other 
result than the loss of one of their best horses, severely 
injured by Sorel, in vainly chasing a wounded bull. The 
Captain, whose ideas of hard riding were all derived from 
transatlantic sources, expressed the utmost amazement 
at the feats of Sorel, who went leaping ravines, and dash- 
ing at full speed up and down the sides of precipitous 
hills, lashing his horse with the recklessness of a Kocky 
Mountain rider. Unfortunately for the poor animal, he 
was the property of R , against whom Sorel enter- 
tained an unbounded aversion. The Captain himself, it 
seemed, had also attempted to " run " a buffalo, but 
though a good and practised horseman, he had soon given 
over tlie attempt, being astonished and utterly disgusted 
at the nature of the ground he was required to ride over. 

" Here's old Papin and Frederic, down from Fort Lar- 
amie," shouted Henry, as we returned from a recon- 
noitring tour on the next morning. We had for some 
days expected this encounter. Papin was the bourgeois, 
or " boss," of Fort Laramie. He had come down the 
river with the buffalo-robes and the beaver, the produce 



70 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

of the last winter's trading. I had among our baggage a 
letter which I wished to commit to their hands ; so re- 
questing Henr} to detain the boats if he could until my 
return, I set out after the wagons. They were about 
four miles in advance. In half an hour I overtook them, 
got the letter, trotted back upon the trail, and looking 
carefully, as I rode, saw a patch of broken storm-blasted 
trees, and, moving near them, some little black specks 
like men 'and horses. Arriving at the place, I found a 
strange assembly. The boats, eleven in number, deep- 
laden with the skins, hugged close to the shore, to escape 
being borne down by the swift current. The rowers, 
swarthy ignoble Mexicans, turned their brutish faces 
upwards to look, as I reached the bank. Papin sat in the 
middle of one of the boats, upon the canvas covering that 
protected the cargo. He was a stout, robust fellow, with 
a little gray eye, that had a peculiarly sly twinkle 
" Frederic," also, stretched his tall raw-boned proportions 
close by the bourgeois^ and " mountain men " completed 
the group ; some lounging in the boats, some strolling on 
shore ; some attired in gayly-painted buffalo robes, like 
Indian dandies ; some with hair saturated with red paint, 
aiii plastered with glue to their temples ; and one 
bedaubed with vermilion upon the forehead and each 
cheek. They were a mongrel race ; yet the French blood 
seemed to predominate : in a few, indeed, might be seen 
the black snaky eye of the Indian half-breed, and, one 
and all, they seemed to aim at assimilating themselves 
to their red associates. 

I shook hands with the bourgeois^ and delivered the 
letter : then the boats swung round into the stream and 
floated away. They had reason for haste, for already 
the voyage from Fort Laramie had occupied a full month, 
and the river was growing daily more shallow. Fiftj 



THE BUFFALO. 71 

times a day the boats had been aground indeed, those 
who navigate the Platte invariably spend half their time 
upon sand-bars. Two of these boats, the property of 
private traders, afterwards separating from the rest, got 
hopelessly involved in the shallows, not very far from the 
Pawnee villages, and were soon surrounded by a swarm 
of the inhabitants. They carried off every thing that 
they thought valuable, including most of the robes ; and 
amused themselves by tying up the men left on guard, 
and soundly whipping them with sticks. 

We encamped that night upon the bank of the river. 
Among the emigrants was an overgrown boy, some 
eighteen years old, with a head as round and about as 
large as a pumpkin, and fever-and-ague fits had dyed his 
face of a corresponding color. He wore an old white hat, 
tied under his chin with a handkerchief; his body was 
short and stout, but his legs were of disproportioned and 
appalling length. I observed him at sunset, breasting 
the hill with gigantic strides, and standing against the 
sky on the summit, like a colossal pair of tongs. In a 
moment after we heard him screaming frantically behind 
the ridge, and nothing doubting that he was in the 
clutches of Indians or grizzly bears, some of the party 
caught up their rifles and ran to the rescue. His out- 
cries, however, were but an ebullition of joyous excite- 
ment ; he had chased two wolf pups to their burrow, and 
-was on his knees, grubbing away like a dog at the mouth 
of the hole, to get at them. 

Before morning he caused more serious disquiet in the 
camp. It was his turn to hold the middle-guard ; but no 
sooner was he called up than he coolly arranged a pair 
of saddle-bags under a wagon, laid his head upon them, 
closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and fell asleep. The 
guard on our side of the camp, thinking it no part of hi? 



72 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

duty to look after the cattle of the emigrants, contented 
himself with watching our own horses and mules ,- the 
wolves, he said, were unusually noisy ; but still no mis- 
chief was anticipated until the sun rose, when not a hoof 
or horn was in sight. The cattle were gone. While 
Tom was quietly slumbering, the wolves had driven them 
away. 

Then we reaped the fruits of R 's precious plan 

of travelling in company with emigrants. To leave them 
in their distress was not to be thought of, and we felt 
bound to wait until the cattle could be searched for, and, 
if possible, recovered. But the reader may be curious to 
know what punishment awaited the faithless Tom. By 
the wholesome law of the prairie, he who falls asleep on 
guard is condemned to walk all day, leading his horse by 
the bridle ; and we found much fault with our companions 
for not enforcing such a sentence on the offender. Never- 
theless, had he been of our own party, I have no doubt 
that he would in like manner have escaped scot-free. 
But the emigrants went farther than mere forbearance : 
they decreed that since Tom couldn't stand guard without 
falling asleep, he shouldn't stand guard at all, and hence 
forward his slumbers were unbroken. Establishing such 
a premium on drowsiness could have no very beneficial 
effect upon the vigilance of our sentinels ; for it is far 
from agreeable, after riding from sunrise to sunset, to 
feel your slumbers interrupted by the but of a rifle nudg- 
ing your side, and a sleepy voice growling in your ear 
that you must get up, to shiver and freeze for three 
weary hours at midnight. 

"Buffalo! buffalo!" It was but a grim old bull, 
roaming the prairie by himself in misanthropic seclusion ; 
but there might be more behind the hills. Dreading the 
monotony and languor of the camp, Shaw and I saddled 



THE BUFFALO. 73 

our horses, buckled our holsters in their places, and set 
out with Henry Chatillon in search of the game. Henry, 
not intending to take part in the chase, but merely con- 
ducting us, carried his rifle with him, while we left ours 
behind as incumbrances. We rode for some five or six 
miles, and saw no living thing but wolves, snakes, and 
prairie-dogs. 

" This won't do at all,'^ said Shaw. 

" What won't do ? " 

^' There's no wood about here to make a litter for the 
wounded man: I have an idea that one of us will need 
something of the sort before the day is over." 

There was some foundation for such an idea, for the 
ground was none of the best for a race, and grew worse 
continually as we proceeded ; indeed, it soon became 
desperately bad, consisting of abrupt hills and deep 
hollows, cut by frequent ravines not easy to pass. At 
length, a mile in advance, we saw a band of bulls. 
Some were scattered grazing over a green declivity, 
while the rest were crowded together in the wide hollow 
below. Making a circuit, to keep out of sight, we rode 
towards them, until we ascended a hill, within a furlong 
of them, beyond which nothing intervened that could pos- 
si})ly screen us from their view. We dismounted behind 
the ridge, just out of sight, drew our saddle-girths, exam- 
ined our pistols, and mounting again, rode over the hill, 
and descended at a canter towards them, bending close to 
our horses' necks. Instantly they took the alarm : those 
on the hill descended, those below gathered into a mass, and 
the whole got into motion, shouldering each other along 
at a clumsy gallop. We followed, spurring our horses to 
full speed ; and as the herd rushed, crowding and tramp- 
ling in terror through an opening in the hills, we were 
close at their heels, half suffocated by the clouds of dust 



74 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

But as we drew near, their alarm and speed increased ; 
our horses, being new to the work, showed signs of the 
utmost fear, bounding violently aside as we approached, 
and refusing to enter among the herd. The buffalo now 
broke into several small bodies, scampering over the hills 
in different directions, and I lost sight of Shaw ; neither 
of us knew where the other had gone. Old Pontiac ran 
like a frantic elephant up hill and down hill, his ponder- 
ous hoofs striking the prairie like sledge-hammers. He 
showed a curious mixture of eagerness and terror, strain- 
ing to overtake the panic-stricken herd, but constantly 
recoiling in dismay as we drew near. The fugitives, 
indeed, offered no very attractive spectacle, with their 
shaggy manes and the tattered remnants of their last 
winter's hair covering their backs in irregular shreds and 
patches, and flying off in the wind as they ran. At length 
I urged my horse close behind a bull, and after trying in 
vain, by blows and spurring, to bring him alongside, I 
fired from this disadvantageous position. At the report 
Pontiac swerved so much that I was again thrown a 
little behind the game. The bullet, entering too much 
in the rear, failed to disable the bull; for a buffalo 
requires to be shot at particular points, or he will cer- 
tainly escape. The herd ran up a hill, and I followed in 
pursuit. As Pontiac rushed headlong down on the other 
side, I saw Shaw and Henry descending the hollow on 
the right, at a leisurely gallop ; and in front, the buffalo 
were just disappearing behind the crest of the next hill, 
their short tails erect, and their hoofs twinkling through 
a cloud of dust. 

At that moment I heard Shaw and Henry shouting to 
me ; but the muscles of a stronger arm than mine could 
not have checked at once the furious course of Pontiac, 
whose mouth was as insensible as leather. Added to this. 



THE BUFFALO. 76 

1 rode him that morning with a snaffle, having the day 
before, for the benefit of my other horse, unbuckled from 
my bridle the curb which I commonly used. A stronger 
and hardier brute never trod the prairie ; but the novel 
sight of the buffalo filled him with terror, and when at 
full speed he was almost incontrollable. Gaining the top 
of the ridge, I saw nothing of the buffalo ; they had all 
vanished amid the intricacies of the hills and hollows. 
Reloading my pistols, in the best way I could, I galloped 
on until I saw them again scuttling along at the base of 
the hill, their panic somewhat abated. Down went old 
Pontiac among them, scattering them to the right and 
left ; and then we had another long chase. About a dozen 
bulls were before us, scouring over the hills, rushing down 
the declivities with tremendous weight and impetuosity, 
and then laboring witli a weary gallop upward. Still 
Pontiac, in spite of spurring and beating, would not close 
with them. One bull at length fell a little behind the 
rest, and by dint of much effort, I urged my horse within 
six or eight yards of his side. His back was darkened 
with sweat; he was panting heavily, while his tongue 
lolled out a foot from his jaws. Gradually I came up 
abreast of him, urging Pontiac with leg and rein nearer to 
his side, when suddenly he did what buffalo in such cir 
cumstances will always do : he slackened his gallop, and 
turning towards us, with an aspect of mingled rage and 
distress, lowered his huge, shaggy head for a charge 
Pontiac, with a snort, leaped aside in terror, nearly throw- 
ing me to the ground, as I was wholly unprepared for 
such an evolution. I raised my pistol in a passion to 
strike him on the head, but thinking better of it, fired the 
bullet after the bull, who had resumed his flight ; then drew 
rein, and ietermined to rejoin my companions. It was 
high time The breath blew hard from Pontiac's nostrils. 



76 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

and the sweat rolled in big drops down hist sides ; I mj 
self felt as if drenched in warm water. Pledging myself 
to take my revenge at a future opportunity, I looked about 
for some indications to show me where I was, and what 
course I ought to pursue ; I might as well have looked 
for landmarks in the midst of the ocean. How many 
miles I had run, or in what direction, I had no idea ; and 
around me the prairie was rolling in steep swells and 
pitches, without a single distinctive feature to guide me. 1 
had a little compass hung at my neck ; and ignorant, that 
the Platte at this point diverged considerably from its east- 
erly course, I thought that by keeping to the northward I 
should certainly reach it. So I turned and rode about 
two hours in that direction. The prairie changed as I 
advanced, softening away into easier undulations, but 
nothing like the Platte appeared, nor any sign of a human 
being : the same wild endless expanse lay around me still ; 
and to all appearance I was as far from my object as ever 
I began now to think myself in danger of being lost, 
and, reining in my horse, summoned the scanty share of 
woodcraft that I possessed (if that term is applicable upon 
the prairie) to extricate me. It occurred to me that the 
buffalo might prove my best guides. I soon found one of 
the paths made by them in their passage to the river : it 
ran nearly at right angles to my course ; but turning my 
horse's head in the direction it indicated, his freer gait 
and erected ears assured me that I was right. 

But in the mean time my ride had been by no means 
a solitary one. The face of the country was dotted far 
and wide with countless hundreds of buffalo. They 
trooped along in files and columns, bulls, cows, and 
calves, on the green faces of the declivities in front. They 
scrambled away over the hills to the right and left ; and 
far off, the pale blue swells in the extreme distance were 



THE BUFFALO. 77 

aotted with innumerable specks. Sometimes I surprised 
shaggy old bulls grazing alone, or sleeping behind the 
ridges I ascended. They would leap up at my approach, 
stare stupidly at me through their tangled manes, and 
then gallop heavily away. The antelope were very nu- 
merous ; and as they are always bold when in the neigh- 
borhood of buffalo, they would approach to look at me,, 
gaze intently with their great round eyes, then suddenly 
leap aside, and stretch lightly away over the prairie, as 
swiftly as a race-horse. Squalid, ruffian-like wolves 
sneaked through the hollows and sandy ravines. Several 
times I passed through villages of prairie-dogs, who sat, 
each at the mouth of his burrow, holding his paws before 
him in a supplicating attitude, and yelping away most 
vehemently, whisking his little tail with every squeak- 
ing cry he uttered. Prairie-dogs are not fastidious in 
their choice of companions ; various long checkered 
snakes were sunning themselves in the midst of the vil- 
lage, and demure little gray owls, with a large white ring 
around each eye, were perched side by side with the right- 
ful inhabitants. The prairie teemed with life. Again 
and again I looked toward the crowded hill-sides, and was 
sure I saw horsemen ; and riding near, with a mixture of 
hope and dread, for Indians were abroad, I found them 
transformed into a group of buffalo. There was nothing 
in human shape amid all this vast congregation of brute 
forms. 

When I turned down the buffalo path, the prairie 
seemed changed ; only a wolf or two glided by at in- 
tervals, like conscious felons, never looking to the right 
or left. Being now free from anxiety, I was at leisure to 
observe minutely the objects around me ; and here, for 
the first time, I noticed insects wholly different from any 
of the varieties found farther to the eastward. Gaudj 



78 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

butterflies fluttered about my horse's head; strangelj; 
formed beetles, glittering with metallic lustre, were crawl- 
ing upon plants that I had never seen before ; multitudes 
of lizards, too, were darting like lightning over the 
sand. 

I had run to a great distance from the river. It cost 
me a long ride on the buffalo path, before I saw, from the 
ridge of a sand-hill, the pale surface of the Platte glisten- 
ing in the midst of its desert valley, and the faint outline 
of the hills beyond waving along the sky. From where I 
stood, not a tree nor a bush nor a living thing was visible 
throughout the whole extent of the sun-scorched land- 
scape. In half an hour I came upon the trail, not far 
from the river ; and seeing that the party had not yet 
passed, I turned eastward to meet them, old Pontiac's 
long swinging trot again assuring me that I was right in 
doing so. Having been slightly ill on leaving camp in 
the morning, six or seven hours of rough- riding had 
fatigued me extremely. I soon stopped, therefore, flung 
my saddle on the ground, and with my head resting on it, 
and my horse's trail-rope tied loosely to my arm, lay wait- 
ing the arrival of the party, speculating meanwhile on 
the extent of the injuries Pontiac had received. At length 
the white wagon coverings rose from the verge of the 
plain. By a singular coincidence, almost at the same 
moment two horsemen appeared coming down from the 
hills. They were Shaw and Henry, who had searched for 
me awhile in the morning, but well knowing the futility 
of the attempt in such a broken country, had placed them- 
selves on the top of the highest hill they could find, and 
picketing their horses near them, as a signal to me, had 
lain down and fallen asleep. The stray cattle had been 
recovered, as the emigrants told us, about noon. Before 
sunset, we pushed forward eight miles farther. 



THE BUFFALO. 79 

"June 7, 1846. — Four men are missing : R , Sorel, and two emi 

grants. They set out this morning after buffalo, and liave not yet made 
their appearance ; whether killed or lost, we cannot tell." 

I find the above in my note-book, and well remember 
the council held on the occasion. Our fire was the scene 
of it ; for the superiority of Henry Chatillon's experience 
and skill made him the resort of the whole camp upon 
every question of difficulty. He was moulding bullets ai 
the fire, when the Captain drew near, with a perturbed 
and care-worn expression of countenance, faithfully re 
fleeted on the heavy features of Jack, who followed close 
behind. Then the emigrants came straggling from their 
wagons towards the common centre. Various sugges 
tions were made, to account for the absence of the four 
men, and one or two of the emigrants declared that, 
when out after the cattle, they had seen Indians dogging 
them, and crawling like wolves along the ridges of the 
hills. At this the Captain slowly shook his head with 
double gravity, and solemnly remarked, — 

" It's a serious thing to be travelling through this 
cursed wilderness ; " an opinion in which Jack immedi- 
ately expressed a thorough coincidence. Henry would 
not commit himself by declaring any positive opinion. 

" Maybe he only followed the buffalo too far ; maybe 
Indian kill him ; maybe he got lost ; I cannot tell." 

With this the auditors were obliged to rest content ; 
the emigrants, not in the least alarmed, though curious 
to know what had become of their comrades, walked 
back to their wagons, and the Captain betook himself 
pensively to hi? tent. Shaw and I followed his example. 



CHAPTER Vm. 

TAKING FRENCH LEAVE. 

/^N the eighth of June, at eleven o'clock, we reached 
^^ the South Fork of the Platte, at the usual fording- 
place. For league upon league the desert uniformity of 
the prospect was almost unbroken ; the hills were dotted 
with little tufts of shrivelled grass, but betwixt these the 
white sand was glaring in the sun ; and the channel of 
the riverf^lmost on a level with the plain, was but one 
great sand-bed, about half a mile wide. It was covered 
with water, but so scantily that the bottom was scarcely 
hidden ; for, wide as it is, the average depth of the Platte 
does not at this point exceed a foot and a half. Stopping 
near its bank, we gathered hois de vache, and made a 
meal of buifalo-meat. Far off, on the other side, was a 
green meadow, where we could see the white tents and 
wagons of an emigrant camp ; and just opposite to us we 
could discern a group of men and animals at the water's 
edge. Four or five horsemen soon entered the river, and 
in ten minutes had waded across and clambered up the 
loose sand-bank. They were ill-looking fellows, thin and 
swarthy, with care-worn anxious faces, and lips rigidly 
compressed. They had good cause for anxiety ; it was 
three days since they first encamped here, and on the 
night of their arrival they had lost a hundred and twenty- 
three of their best cattle, driven off by the wolves, through 
the neglect of the man on guard. This discouraging and 



TAKING FRENCH LEAVE. 8l 

alarming calamity was not the first that had overtaken 
them. Since leaving the settlements they had met with 
nothing but misfortune. Some of their party had died ; 
one man had been killed by the Pawnees ; and about a 
week before they had been plundered by the Dahcotahs 
of all their best horses, the wretched animals on which 
our visitors were mounted being the only ones that were 
left. They had encamped, they told us, near sunset, by 
the side of the Platte, and their oxen were scattered over 
the meadow, while the horses were feeding a little farther 
off. Suddenly the ridges of the hills were alive with a 
swarm of mounted Indians, at least six hundred in num- 
ber, who came pouring with a yell down towards the camp, 
rushing up within a few rods, to the great terror of the 
emigrants ; when, suddenly wheeling, they swept around 
the band of horses, and in five minutes disappeared with 
their prey through the openings of the hills. 

As these emigrants were telling their story, we saw 

four other men approaching. They proved to be K 

and his companions, who had encountered no mischance 
of any kind, but had only wandered too far in pursuit of 
the game. They said they had seen no Indians, but only 

" millions of buffalo ; '' and both R and Sorel had 

meat dangling behind their saddles. 

The emigrants recrossed the river, and we prepared to 
follow. First the heavy ox-wagons plunged down the 
bank, and dragged slowly over the sand-beds ; sometimes 
the hoofs of the oxen were scarcely wet by the thin sheet 
of water ; and the next moment the river would be boil- 
ing against their sides, and eddying around the wheels. 
Inch by inch they receded from the shore, dwindling 
every moment, until at length they seemed to be floating 
far out in the middle of the 'iver. A more critical ex- 
oeriment awaited us ; for our little mule-cart was iU- fitted 



82 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

for the passage of so swift a stream. We watched it with 
anxiety, till it seemed a motionless white speck in the 
midst of the waters ; and it was motionless, for it had 
stuck fast in a quicksand. The mules were losing their 
footing, the wheels were sinking deeper and deeper, and 
the water began to rise through the bottom and drench 
the goods within. All of us who had remained on the 
hither bank galloped to the rescue ; the men jumped into 
the water, adding their strength to that of the mules, until 
by much effort the cart was extricated, and conveyed in 
safety across. 

As we gained the other bank, a rough group of men 
surrounded us. They were not robust, nor large of frame, 
yet they had an aspect of hardy endurance. Finding at 
home no scope for their energies, they had betaken them- 
selves to the prairie ; and in them seemed to be revived, 
with redoubled force, that fierce spirit which impelled 
their ancestors, scarcely more lawless than themselves, 
from the German forests, to inundate Europe, and over- 
whelm the Roman empire. A fortnight afterwards this 
unfortunate party passed Fort Laramie, while we were 
there. Not one of their missing oxen had been recovered, 
though they had remained encamped a week in search of 
them ; and they had been compelled to abandcfn a great 
part of their baggage and provisions, and yoke cows and 
heifers to their wagons to carry them forward upon their 
journey, the most toilsome and hazardous part of which 
lay still before them. 

It is worth noticing that on the Platte one may some- 
times see tlie shattered wrecks of ancient claw-footed 
tables, well waxed and rubbed, or massive bureaus of 
carved oak. These, some of them no doubt the relics of 
ancestral prosperity in the colonial time, must have en 
countered strange vicissitudes. Brought, perhaps, origin- 



TAKING FRENCH LEAVE. 83 

ally from England ; then, with the declining fortunes of 
their owners, borne across the Alleghanies to the wilder- 
ness of Ohio or Kentucky ; then to Illinois or Missouri ; 
and now at last fondly stowed away in the family wagon 
for the interminable journey to Oregon. But the stern 
privations of the way are little anticipated. The cher- 
ished relic is soon flung out to scorch and crack upon the 
hot prairie. 

We resumed our journey ; but we had gone scarcely a 
mile, when R called out from the rear, — 

" We'll 'camp here." 

" Why do you want to 'camp ? Look at the sun. It 
is not three o'clock yet." 

" We'll 'camp here ! " 

This was the only reply vouchsafed. Deslauriers was 
in advance with his cart. Seeing the mule-wagon wheel- 
ing from the track, he began to turn his own team in the 
same direction. 

" Go on, Deslauriers ; " and the little cart advanced 
again. As we rode on, we soon heard the wagon of our 
confederates creaking and jolting behind us, and the 
driver, Wright, discharging a furious volley of oaths 
against his mules ; no doubt venting upon them the 
wrath which he dared not direct against a more appro- 
priate object. 

Something of this sort had frequently occurred. Our 
English companion was by no means partial to us, and 
we thought we discovered in his conduct an intention to 
thwart and annoy us, especially by retarding the move- 
ments of tha party, which he knew that we were anxious 
to quicken. Therefore he would insist on encamping at 
all unseasonable hours, saying that fifteen miles was a 
sufficient day's journey. Finding our wishes disivgarded, 
we took the direction of affairs into our own hands 



84 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

Keeping always in advance, to the inexpressible indigna- 
tion of R , we encamped at what time and place we 

thought proper, not much caring whether the rest chose 
to follow or not. They always did so, however, pitching 
their tent near ours, with sullen and wrathful counte- 
nances. 

Travelling together on these terms did not suit our 
tastes, and for some time we had meditated a separation 
We resolved to leave camp early in the morning, and 
push forward as rapidly as possible for Fort Laramie, 
which we hoped to reach, by hard travelling, in four or 
five days. The Captain soon trotted up between us, and 
we explained our intentions. 

" A very extraordinary proceeding, upon my word ! ^' 
he remarked. The most prominent impression in his 
mind evidently was, that we were deserting his party, in 
what he regarded as a very dangerous stage of the jour- 
ney. We ventured to suggest that we were only four in 
number, while his party still included sixteen men ; and 
as we were to go forward and they were to follow, a full 
proportion of the perils he apprehended would fall upon 
us. But the austerity of the Captain's features would not 
relax. " A very extraordinary proceeding, gentlemen ! " 
and repeating this, he rode off to confer with his prin- 
cipal. 

Before sunrise on the next morning our tent was down , 
we harnessed our best horses to the cart and left the 
camp. But first we shook hands with our friends the 
emigrants, who sincerely wished us a safe journey, though 
some others of the party might easily have been consoled 
had we encountered an Indian war-party on the way. The 
Captain and his brother were standing on the top of a hill, 
wrapped in their plaids, like spirits of the mist, keeping 
an anxious eye on the band of horses bek>w. We waved 



TAKING FRENCH LEAVE. 86 

adieu to them as we rode off the ground. The Captain 
replied with a salutation of the utmost dignity, which 
Jack tried to imitate, though not with perfect success. 

In five minutes we had gained the foot of the hills, but 
here we came to a stop. Hendrick was in the shafts, and be- 
ing the incarnation of perverse and brutish obstinacy, he 
utterly refused to move. Deslauriers lashed and swore 
till he was tired, but Hendrick stood like a rock, grumbling 
to himself and looking askance at his enemy, until he saw 
a favorable opportunity to take his revenge, when he struck 
out under the shaft with such cool malignity of intention 
that Deslauriers only escaped the blow by a sudden skip 
into the air, such as no one but a Frenchman could achieve. 
Shaw and he then joined forces, and lashed on both sides 
at once. The brute stood still for a while, till he could 
bear it no longer, when he began to kick and plunge till 
he threatened the utter demolition of the cart and harness. 
We glanced back at the camp, which was in full sight. 
Our companions, inspired by emulation, were levelling 
their tents and driving in their cattle and horses. 

"Take the horse out," said I. 

I took the saddle from Ponfciac and put it upon Hen- 
drick ; the former was harnessed to the cart in an instant. 
''' Avance doncT^ cried Deslauriers. Pontiac strode up 
the hill, twitching the little cart after him as if it were a 
feather's weight ; and though, as we gained the top, we 
saw the wagons of our deserted comrades just getting into 
motion, we had little fear that they could overtake us. 

Leaving the trail, we struck directly across the country, 
and took the shortest cut to reach the main stream of the 
Platte. A deep ravine suddenly intercepted us. We 
skirted its sides until we found them less abrupt, and 
then plunged through in the best way we could. Passing 
l)ehind the sandy ravines called " Ash Hollow," we stoj)ped 



86 THJfi OREGON TRAIL 

for a short nooning at the side of a pool of rain-water ; 
but soon resumed our journey, and some hours before 
sunset descended the ravines and gorges opening dowji 
ward upon the Platte west of Ash Hollow. Our horses 
waded to the fetlock in sand ; the sun scorched like fire, 
and the air swarmed with sand-flies and mosquitoes. 

At last we gained the Platte. Following it for about 
five miles, we saw, just as the sun was sinking, a great 
meadow, dotted with hundreds of cattle, and beyond them 
an encampment of emigrants. A party of them came out 
to meet us, looking upon us at first with cold and suspi- 
cious faces. Seeing four men, different in appearance and 
equipment from themselves, emerging from the hills, they 
had taken us for the van of the much-dreaded Mormons, 
whom they were very apprehensive of encountering. We 
made known our true character, and then they greeted us 
cordially. They expressed much surprise that so small a 
party should venture to traverse that region, though in 
fact such attempts are often made by trappers and Indian 
traders. We rode with them to their camp. The wagons, 
some fifty in number, with here and there a tent inter- 
vening, were arranged as ui5ual in a circle ; the best 
horses were picketed in the area within, and the whole 
circumference was glowing with the dusky light of fires, 
displaying the forms of the women and children who were 
crowded around them. This patriarchal scene was curious 
and striking enough ; but we made our escape from the 
place with all possible dispatch, being tormented by the 
intrusive questioning of the men who thronged about us. 
Yankee curiosity was nothing to theirs. They demand- 
ed our names, whence we came, whither we were going, 
and what was our business. The last query was par- 
ticularly embarrassing ; since travelling in that country, 
or indeed anywhere, from any othei motive than gain, 



TAKING FRENCH LEAVE. 8T 

was ail idea of which they took no cognizance. Yet they 
were fine-looking fellows, with an air of frankness, gen- 
erosity, and even courtesy, having come from one of the 
least barbarous of the frontier counties. 

We passed about a mile beyond them, and encampea. 
Being too few in number to stand guard without excessive 
fatigue, we extinguished our fire, lest it should attract the 
notice of wandering Indians ; and, picketing our horses 
close around us, slept undisturbed till morning. For three 
days we travelled without interruption, and on the even- 
ing of the third encamped by the well-known spring on 
Scott's Bluff. 

Henry Chatillon and I rode out in the morning, and, 
descending the western side of the Bluff, were crossing 
the plain beyond. Something that seemed to me a file of 
buffalo came into 'view, descending the hills several miles 
before us. But Henry reined in his horse, and, peering 
across the prairie with a better and more practised eye, 
soon discovered its real nature. " Indians ! " he said. 
" Old Smoke's lodges, I b'lieve. Come ; let us go ! Wah ! 
get up, now, ' Five Hundred Dollar.' " And laying on 
the lash with good will, he galloped forward, and I rode 
by his side. Not long after, a black speck became visible 
on the prairie, full two miles off. It grew larger and 
larger ; it assumed the form of a man and horse ; and 
soon we could discern a naked Indian, careering at full 
gallop towards us. When within a furlong he wheeled 
his horse in a wide circle, and made him describe vari- 
ous mystic figures upon the prairie ; Henry immediately 
compelled " Five Hundred Dollar " to execute similar 
evolutions. " It is Old Smoke's village," said he, inter- 
preting these signals ; '* didn't I say so ? " 

As the Indian approached we stopped to wait for him, 
when suddenly he vanished, sinking, as it were, into the 



»8 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

earth. He had come upon one of the deep ravines that 
everywhere intersect these prairies. In an instant the 
rough head of his horse stretched upward from the edge, 
and the rider and steed came scrambling out, and bounded 
up to us ; a sudden jerk of the rein brought the wild 
panting horse to a full stop. Then followed the needful 
formality of shaking hands. I forget our visitor's name. 
He was a young fellow, of no note in his nation ; yet in 
his person and equipments he was a good specimen of a 
Dahcotah warrior in his ordinary travelling dress. Like 
most of his people, he was nearly six feet high ; lithely 
and gracefully, yet strongly proportioned; and with a 
skin singularly clear and delicate. He wore no paint ; 
his head was bare ; and his long hair was gathered in a 
clump behind, to the top of which was attached trans- 
versely, both by way of ornament an4 of talisman, the 
mystic whistle, made of the wing-bone of the war-eagle, 
and endowed with various magic virtues. From the back 
of his head descended a line of glittering brass plates, 
tapering from the size of a doubloon to that of a half- 
dime, a cumbrous ornament, in high vogue among the 
Dahcotahs, and for which they pay the traders a most 
extravagant price ; his chest and arms were naked, the 
buffalo robe, worn over them when at rest, had fallen 
about his waist, and was confined there by a belt. This, 
with the gay moccasins on his feetf completed his attire. 
For arms he carried a quiver of dog-skin at his back, and 
a rude but powerful bow in his hand. His horse had no 
bridle ; a cord of hair, lashed around his jaw, served in 
place of one. The saddle was made of wood covered 
with raw hide, and both pommel and cantle rose perpen- 
dicularly full eighteen inches, so that the warrior was 
wedged firmly in his seat, whence nothing could dislodge 
him but the bursting of the girths. 




J"^ 



>%,. '• 



\ r 



T,S&;v,»?"' 




OLD SMOKE." 



TAKING FRENCH LEAVE. 89 

Advancing with our new companion, we found more of 
his people, seated in a circle on the top of a hill ; while a 
rude procession came straggling down the neighboring 
hollow, men, women, and children, with horses dragging 
the lodge-poles behind them. All that morning, as we 
moved forward, tall savages were stalking silently about 
us. At noon we reached Horse Creek. The main body 
of the Indians had arrived before us. On the farther 
bank stood a large and strong man, nearly naked, hold- 
ing a white horse by a long cord, and eying us as we 
approached. This was the chief, whom Henry called 
" Old Smoke." Just behind him, his youngest and favor- 
ite squaw sat astride a fine mule, covered with capari- 
sons of whitened skins, garnished with blue and white 
beads, and fringed with little ornaments of metal that 
tinkled with every movement of the animal. The girl 
had a light clear complexion, enlivened by a spot of ver- 
miUon on each cheek ; she smiled, not to say grinned, 
upon us, showing two gleaming rows of white teeth. In 
lier hand she carried the tall lance of her unchivalrous 
lord, fluttering with feathers; his round white shield 
hung at the side of her mule ; and his pipe was slung at 
her back. Her dress was a tunic of deer-skin, made 
beautifully white by means of a species of clay found on 
the prairie, ornamented with beads, arranged in figures 
more gay than tasteful, and with long fringes at all the 
seams. Not far from the chief stood a group of stately 
figures, their white buffalo-robes thrown over their shoul- 
ders, gazing coldly upon us ; and in the rear, for several 
acres, the ground was covered with a temporary encamp- 
ment. Warriors, women, and children swarmed like bees ; 
hundreds of dogs, of all sizes and colors, ran restlessly 
about ; and, close at hand, the wide shallow stream was 
alive with boys, girls, and young squaws, splashing, scream 



90 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

ing, and laughing in the water. At the same time a long 
train of emigrants with their heavy wagons was crossing 
the creek, and dragging on in slow procession by the 
encampment of the people whom they and tlieir descend- 
ants, in the space of a century, are to sweep from the 
face of the earth. 

The encampment itself was merely a temporary one 
during the heat of the day. None of the lodges were 
pitched; but their heavy leather coverings, and the long 
poles used to support them, were scattered everywhere, 
among weapons, domestic utensils, and the rude harness 
of mules and horses. The squaws of each lazy warrior 
had made him a shelter from the sun, by stretching a few 
buffalo-robes, or the corner of a lodge-covering, upon 
poles ; and here he sat in the shade, with a favorite young 
squaw, perhaps, at his side, glittering with all imaginable 
trinkets. Before him stood the insignia of his rank as a 
warrior, his white shield of bull-hide, his medicine-bag, 
his bow and quiver, his lance and his pipe, raised aloft 
on a tripod of poles. Except the dogs, the most active 
and noisy tenants of the camp were the old women, ugly 
as Macbeth's witches, with hair streaming loose in the 
wind, and nothing but the tattered fragment of an old 
buffalo-robe to hide their shrivelled limbs. The day of 
their favoritism passed two generations ago ; now, the 
heaviest labors of the camp devolved upon them ; they 
must harness the horses, pitch the lodges, dress the 
buffalo-robes, and bring in meat for the hunters. With 
the cracked voices of these hags, the clamor of dogs, the 
shouting and laughing of children and girls, and the list- 
less tranquillity of the warriors, the whole scene had an 
effect too lively and picturesque to be forgotten. 

We stopped not far from the Indian camp, and having 
invited some of the chiefs and warriors t:> dinner, placed 



TAKING FRENCH LEAVE. 91 

before them a repast of biscuit and coffee. Squatted in a 
half circle on the ground, they soon disposed of it. As 
we rode forward on the afternoon journey, several of our 
late guests accompanied us. Among the rest was a 
bloated savage, of more than three hundred pounds' 
weight, christened Le CocJion, in consideration of his 
preposterous dimensions, and certain corresponding traits 
of his character. " The Hog " bestrode a little white pony, 
scarcely able to bear up under the enormous burden, 
though, by way of keeping up the necessary stimulus, the 
rider kept both feet in constant motion, playing alter 
nately against his ribs. The old man was not a chief; 
he never had ambition enough to become one ; he was 
not a warrior nor a hunter, for he was too fat and lazy ; 
but he was the richest man in the village. Riches among 
the Dahcotahs consist in horses, and of these " The 
Hog" had accumulated more than thirty. He had 
already ten times as many as he wanted, yet still his 
appetite for horses was insatiable. Trotting up to me, he 
shook me by the hand, and gave me to understand that 
he was my devoted friend ; then he began a series of 
signs and gesticulation, his oily countenance radiant 
with smiles, and his little eyes peeping out with a cunning 
twinkle from between the masses of flesh that almost 
obscured them. Knowing nothing at that time of the 
sign-language of the Indians, I could only guess at his 
meaning. So I called on Henry to explain it. 

" The Hog," it seems, was anxious to conclude a mat- 
rimonial bargain, and barter one of his daughters for my 
horse. These overtures I chose to reject ; at which " The 
Hog," still laughing with undiminished good humor, 
gathered his robe about his shoulders, and rode away. 

Where we encamped that night, an arm of the Platte 
fan between high bluffs ; it was turbid and swift as here- 



92 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

fcofore, but trees were growing on its crumbling banks, 
and there was a nook of grass between the water and the 
hill. Just before entering this place, we saw the emi- 
grants encamping two or three miles distant on the 
right ; while the whole Indian rabble were pouring down 
the neighboring hill in hope of the same sort of enter- 
tainment which they had experienced from us. In the 
savage landscape before our camp, nothing but the rush- 
ing of the Platte broke the silence. Through the ragged 
boughs of the trees, dilapidated and half dead, we saw 
the sun setting in crimson behind the peaks of the Black 
Hills ; the restless bosom of the river was suffused with 
red ; our white tent was tinged with it, and the sterile 
bluffs, up to the rocks that crowned them, partook of the 
same fiery hue. It soon passed away ; no light remained 
but that from our fire, blazing high among the dusky 
trees and bushes, while we lay around it wrapped in our 
blankets, smoking and conversing through half the night. 
We crossed a sun-scorched plain on the next morning ; 
the line of old cotton-wood trees that fringed the bank of 
the Platte forming its extreme verge. Nestled close be- 
neath them, we could discern in the distance something 
like a building. As we came nearer, it assumed form 
and dimensions, and proved to be a rough structure of 
logs. It was a little trading fort, belonging to two private 
traders ; and originally intended, like all the forts of the 
country, to form a hollow square, with rooms for lodging 
and storage opening upon the area within. Only two 
sides of it had been completed ; the place was now as 
ill-fitted for the purposes of defence as any of those 
little log-houses, which upon our constantly-shifting fron- 
tier have been so often successfully held against over- 
whelming odds of Indians. Two lodges were pitched 
close to the fort ; the su*^ beat scorching upon the logs ; 



TAKING FRENCH LEAVE. 93 

no living thing was stirring except one old squaw, who 
thrust her round head from the opening of the nearest 
lodge, and three or four stout young puppies, who were 
peeping with looks of eager inquiry from under the cover- 
hig. In a moment a door opened, and a little, swarthy, 
black-eyed Frenchman came out. His dress was rather 
singular ; his black curling hair was parted in the middle 
of his head, and fell below his shoulders ; he wore a tight 
frock of smoked deer-skin, gayly ornamented with figures 
worked in dyed porcupine-quills. His moccasins and 
leggins were also gaudily adorned in the same manner ; 
and the latter had in addition a line of long fringes, 
reaching down the seams. The small frame of Richard, 
for by this name Henry made him known to us, was in 
the highest degree athletic and vigorous. There was no 
superfluity, and indeed there seldom is among the white 
men of this country, but every limb was compact and 
hard ; every sinew had its full tone and elasticity, and 
the whole man wore an air of mingled hardiliood 
and buoyancy. 

Richard committed our horses to a Navaho slave, a 
mean-looking fellow, taken prisoner on the Mexican fron- 
tier ; and, relieving us of our rifles with ready politeness, 
led the way into the principal apartment of his establish- 
ment. This was a room ten feet square. The walls and 
floor were of black mud, and the roof of rough timber ; 
there was a huge fireplace made of four flat rocks, picked 
up on the prairie. An Indian bow and otter-skin quiver, 
several gaudy articles of Rocky Mountain finery, an Indian 
medicine-bag, and a pipe and tobacco-pouch, garnished 
the walls, and rifles rested in a corner. There was no 
furniture except a sort of rough settle, covered with buf- 
falo-robes, upon which lolled a tall half-breed with hia 
hair glued in masses upon each temple, and saturated 



94 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

with vermilion. Two or three more " mountain men '■ 
sat cross-legged on the floor. Their attire was not un- 
like that of Richard himself; but the most striking figure 
of the group was a naked Indian boy of sixteen, with a 
handsome face, and light, active proportions, who sat in 
an easy posture in the corner near the door. Not one of 
his limbs moved the breadth of a hair ; his eye was fixed 
immovably, not on any person present, but, as it appeared, 
on the projecting corner of the fireplace opposite to him. 

On the prairie the custom of smoking with friends is 
seldom omitted, whether among Indians or whites. The 
pipe, therefore, was taken from the wall, and its red bowl 
crammed with the tobacco and shongsasha, mixed in suii>- 
able proportions. Then it passed round the circle, each 
man inhaling a few whiffs and handing it to his neighbor. 
Having spent half an hour here, we took our leave ; first 
inviting our new friends to drink a cup of coffee with us 
at our camp a mile farther up the river. 

By this time we had grown rather shabby ; our clothes 
had burst into rags and tatters ; and, what was worse, we 
had little means of renovation. Fort Laramie was but 
seven miles before us. Being averse to appearing in 
such a plight among any society that could boast an 
approximation to the civilized, we stopped by the river to 
make our toilet in the best way we could. We hung up 
small looking-glasses against the trees and shaved, an 
operation neglected for six weeks ; we performed our 
ablutions in the Platte, though the utility of such a pro- 
ceeding was questionable, the water looking exactly like 
a cup of chocolate, and the banks consisting of the softest 
and richest yellow mud, so that we were obliged, as a 
preliminary, to build a causeway of branches and twigs 
Having also put on radiant moccasins, procured from a 
squaw of Richard's establishment, and made what otliej 



TAKrNG FRENCH LEA7E. 95 

improvements our narrow circumstances allowed, we took 
our seats on the grass with a feeling of greatly increased 
respectability, to await the arrival of our guests. They 
came ; the banquet was concluded, and the pipe smoked. 
Bidding them adieu, we turned our horses' heads towards 
the fort. 

An hour elapsed. The barren hills closed across om 
front, and we could see no farther ; until, having sui • 
mounted them, a rapid stream appeared at the foot of the 
descent, running into the Platte ; beyond was a green 
meadow, dotted with bushes, and in the midst of these, 
at the point where the two rivers joined, were the low 
clay walls of a fort. This was not Fort Laramie, but an- 
other post, of less recent date, which having sunk before 
its successful competitor, was now deserted and ruinous. 
A moment after, the hills seeming to draw apart as we 
advanced, disclosed Fort Laramie itself, its high bastions 
and perpendicular walls of clay crowning an eminence on 
the left beyond the stream, while behind stretched a line of 
arid and desolate ridges, and behind these again, towering 
seven thousand feet aloft, rose the grim Black Hills. 

We tried to ford Laramie Creek at a point nearly op- 
posite the fort, but the stream, swollen with rains, was 
too rapid. We passed up along its bank to find a better 
crossing place. Men gathered on the wall to look at us. 
" There's Bordeaux ! " called Henry, his face brightening 
as he recognized his acquaintance ; " him there with the 
spy-glass ; and there's old Yaskiss, and Tucker, and 
May ; and, by George ! there's Simoneau." This Sim- 
oneau was Henry's fast friend, and the only man in the 
country who could rival him in hunting. 

We soon found a ford. Henry led the way, the pony 
approaching the bank with a countenance of cool indiffer- 
ence, bracing his feet and sliding into the stream with 



y6 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

the most unmoved composure. We followed ; the watei 
boiled against our saddles, but our horses bore us easily 
through. The unfortunate little mules were near going 
down with the current, cart and all ; and we watched 
them with some solicitude scrambling over the loose round 
stones at the bottom, and bracing stoutly against the 
stream. All landed safely at last; we crossed a little 
plain, descended a hollow, and, riding up a steep bank, 
found ourselves before the gateway of Fort Laramie, under 
the impending blockhouse erected above it to defend the 
entrance. 



CHAPTER IX. 

SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE. 

T OOKING back, after the expiration of a year, upon 
-*— ^ Fort Laramie and its inmates, they seem less like 
a reality than like some fanciful picture of the olden 
time ; so different was the scene from any which this 
tamer side of the world can present. Tall Indians, en- 
veloped in their white buffalo-robes, were striding across 
the area or reclining at full length on the low roofs of the 
buildings which enclosed it. Numerous squaws, gayly 
bedizened, sat grouped in front of the rooms they occu- 
pied; their mongrel offspring, restless and vociferous, 
rambled in every direction through the fort ; and the trap- 
pers, traders, and engagis of the establishment were busy 
at their labor or their amusements. 

We were met at the gate, but by no means cordially 
welcomed. Indeed, we seemed objects of some distrust 
and suspicion, until Henry Chatillon explained that we 
were not traders, and we, in confirmation, handed to the 
bourgeois a letter of introduction from his principals. 
He took it, turned it upside down, and tried hard to read 
it ; but his literary attainments not being adequate to the 
task, he applied for relief to the clerk, a sleek, smiling 
Frenchman, named Monthalon. The letter read, Bor- 
deaux (the bourgeois') seemed gradually to awaken to a 
sense of what was expected of him. Though not deficient 
in hospitable intentions, he was wholly unaccustomed to 

7 



98 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

act as master of ceremonies. Discarding all formalities 
of reception, he did not honor us with a single word, but 
walked swiftly across the area, while we followed in some 
admiration to a railing and a flight of steps opposite the 
entrance. He signed to us that we had better fasten our 
horses to the railing ; then he walked up the steps, tramped 
along a rude balcony, and, kicking open a door, displayed 
a large room, rather more elaborately furnished than a 
barn. Fur furniture it had a rough bedstead, but no bed ; 
two chairs, a chest of drawers, a tin pail to hold water, 
and a board to cut tobacco upon. A brass crucifix hung 
on the wall, and close at hand a recent scalp, with hair 
full a yard long, was suspended from a nail. I shall" again 
have occasion to mention this dismal trophy, its history 
being connected with that of our subsequent proceedings. 
This apartment, the best in Fort Laramie, was that 
usually occupied by the legitimate bourgeois^ Papin, in 
whose absence the command devolved upon Bordeaux. 
The latter, a stout, bluff little fellow, much inflated by a 
sense of his new authority, began to roar for buffalo-robes. 
These being brought and spread upon the floor, formed 
our beds ; much better ones than we had of late been 
accustomed to. Our arrangements made, we stepped out 
to the balcony to take a more leisurely survey of the long 
looked-for haven at which we had arrived at last. Beneath 
us was the square area surrounded by little rooms, or 
rather cells, which opened upon it. These were devoted 
to various purposes, but served chiefly foi* the accommo- 
daiion of the men employed at the fort, or of the equally 
numerous squaws whom they were allowed to maintain 
in it. Opposite to us rose the blockhouse above the gate- 
way ; it was adorned with the figure of a horse at full 
speed, daubed upon the boards with red paint, and exhib 
iting a degree of skill which might rival that displayed bj 



SCENES AT FORT LARAMTE. 99 

the Indians in executing similar designs upon their robes 
and lodges. A busy scene was enacting in the area. 
The wagons of Yaskiss, an old trader, were about to set 
out for a remote post in the mountains, and the Canadians 
were going through their preparations with all possible 
bustle, while here and there an Indian stood looking on 
with imperturbable gravity. 

Fort Laramie is one of the posts established by the 
*' American Fur Company," which well-nigh monopolizes 
thg Indian trade of this region. Here its officials rule 
with an absolute sway ; the arm of the United States has 
little force ; for when we were there, the extreme outposts 
of her troops were about seven hundred miles to the east 
ward. The little fort is built of bricks dried in the sun, 
and externally is of an oblong form, with bastions of 
clay, in the form of ordinary blockhouses, at two of the 
corners. The walls are about fifteen feet high, and sur- 
mounted by a slender palisade. The roofs of the apart- 
ments within, which are built close against the walls, 
serve the purpose of a banquette. Within, the fort is 
divided by a partition : on one side is tlie square area, 
surrounded by the store-rooms, offices, and apartments 
of the inmates ; on the other is the corral, a narrow place, 
encompassed by the high clay walls, where at night, or in 
presence of dangerous Indians, the horses and mules of 
the fort are crowded for safe keeping. The main entrance 
has two gates, with an arched passage intervening. A 
little square window, high above the ground, opens later 
ally from an adjoining chamber into this passage ; so that 
when the inner gate is closed and barred, a person with- 
out may still hold communication with those within, 
through this narrow aperture. This obviates the neces- 
sity of admitting suspicious Indians, for purposes of 
trading, into the body of the fort ; for when danger ia 



100 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

apprehended, the inner gate is shut fast, and all traffic 
is carried on by means of the window. This precaution, 
though necessary at some of the Company's posts, is 
seldom resorted to at Fort Laramie ; where, though men 
are frequently killed in the neighborhood, no apprehen- 
sions are felt of any general designs of hostility from 
the Indians. 

We did not long enjoy our new quarters undisturbed. 
The door was silently pushed open, and two eyeballs and 
a visage as black as night looked in upon us ; then a red 
arm and shoulder intruded themselves, and a tall Indian, 
gliding in, shook us by the hand, grunted his salutation, 
and sat down on the floor. Others followed, with faces 
of the natural hue, and letting fall their heavy robes from 
their shoulders, took their seats, quite at ease, in a semi- 
circle before us. The pipe was now to be lighted and 
passed from one to another ; and this was the only enter- 
tainment that at present they expected from us. These 
visitors were fathers, brothers, or other relatives of the 
squaws in the fort, where they were permitted to remain, 
loitering about in perfect idleness. All those who smoked 
with us were men of standing and repute. Two or three 
others dropped in also ; young fellows who neither by 
their years nor their exploits were entitled to rank with 
the old men and warriors, and who, abashed in the pres- 
ence of their superiors, stood aloof, never withdrawing 
their eyes from us. Their cheeks wei^e adorned with 
vermilion, their ears with pendants of shell, and their 
necks with beads. Never yet having signalized them- 
selves as hunters, or performed the honorable exploit of 
killing a man, they were held in slight esteem, and were 
diffident and bashful in proportion. Certain formidable 
inconveniences attended this influx of visitors. They 
were bent on inspecting every thing in the room; our 



SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE. 10] 

equipments and our dress alike underwent their scrutiny ,• 
for though the contrary has been asserted, few beings 
have more curiosity than Indians in regard to subjects 
wdthin their ordinary range of thought. As to other 
matters, indeed, they seem utterly indifferent. They will 
not trouble themselves to inquire into what they cannot 
comprehend, but are quite contented to place their hands 
over their mouths in token of wonder, and exclaim that 
it is " great medicine." With this comprehensive solu- 
tion, an Indian never is at a loss. He never launches 
into speculation and conjecture ; his reason moves in its 
beaten track. His soul is dormant ; and no exertions of 
the missionaries, Jesuit or Puritan, of the old world or 
of the new, have as yet availed to arouse it. 

As we were looking, at sunset, from the waU, upon the 
desolate plains that surround the fort, we observed a 
cluster of strange objects, like scaffolds, rising in the dis- 
tance against the red western sky. They bore aloft some 
singular-looking burdens ; and at their foot glimmered 
something white, like bones. This was the place of sepul- 
ture of some Dahcotah chiefs, whose remains their people 
are fond of placing in the vicinity of the fort, in the hope 
that they may thus be protected from violation at the 
hands of their enemies. Yet it has happened more than 
once, and quite recently, that war parties of the Crow 
Indians, ranging through the country, have thrown the 
bodies from the scaffolds, and broken them to pieces, amid 
tl\e yells of the Dahcotah, who rernained pent up in the 
fort, too few to defend the honored relics from insult 
The white objects upon the ground were buffalo skulls, 
arranged in the mystic circle, commonly seen at Indian 
places of sepulture upon the prairie. 

We soon discovered, in the twilight, a band of fifty oi 
sixty horses approaching the fort. These were the an 



102 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

imals belonging to the establishment ; who, having been 
sent out to feed, under the care of armed guards, in the 
meadows below, were now being driven into the corral 
for the night. A gate opened into this inclosure : by the 
side of it stood one of the guards, an old Canadian, with 
gray bushy eyebrows, and a dragoon-pistol stuck into his 
belt ; while his comrade, mounted on horseback, his rifle 
laid across the saddle in front, and his long hair blowing 
before his swarthy face, rode at the rear of the disorderly 
troop, urging them up the ascent. In a moment the 
narrow corral was thronged with the half-wild horses, 
kicking, biting, and crowding restlessly together. 

The discordant jingling of a bell, rung by a Canadian 
in the area, summoned us to supper. The repast was 
served on a rough table in one of the lower apartments 
of the fort, and consisted of cakes of bread and dried 
buffalo meat — an excellent thing for strengthening the 
teeth. At this meal were seated the bourgeois and supe- 
rior dignitaries of the establishment, among whom Henry 
Chatillon was worthily included. No sooner was it 
finished, than the table was spread a second time (the 
luxury of bread being now, however, omitted), for the 
benefit of certain hunters and trappers of an inferior 
standing ; while the ordinary Canadian engages were re- 
galed on dried meat in one of their lodging rooms. By 
way of illustrating the domestic economy of Fort Laramie, 
it may not be amiss to introduce in this place a story cur- 
rent among the men when we were there. 

There was an old man named Pierre, whose duty it was 
to bring the meat from the store-room for the men. Old 
Pierre, in the kindness of his heart, used to select the 
fattest and the best pieces for his companions. This did 
not long escape the keen-eyed bourgeois^ who was greatly 
disturbed at such imnr evidence, and cast about for some 



SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE. 103 

means to stop it. At last he hit on a plan that exactly 
suited him. At the side of the meat-room, and separated 
from it by a claj partition, was another apartment, used 
for the storage of furs. It had no communication with 
the fort, except through a square hole in the partition ; 
and of course it was perfectly dark. One evening the 
bourgeois, watching for a moment when no one observed 
him, dodged into the meat-room, clambered through the 
hole, and ensconced himself among the fUrs and buffalo- 
robes. Soon after, old Pierre came in with his lantern , 
and, muttering to himself, began to pull over the bales 
of meat, and select the best pieces, as usual. But sud- 
denly a hollow and sepulchral voice proceeded from the 
inner room : " Pierre, Pierre ! Let that fat meat alone. 
Take nothing but lean." Pierre dropped his lantern, and 
bolted out into the fort, screaming, in an agony of terror, 
that the devil was in the store-room ; but tripping on the 
threshold, he pitched over upon the gravel, and lay sense- 
less, stunned by the fall. The Canadians ran out to the 
rescue. Some lifted the unlucky Pierre ; and others, 
making an extempore crucifix of two sticks, were pro- 
ceeding to attack the devil in his stronghold, when the 
bourgeois, with a crestfallen countenance, appeared at 
the door. To add to his mortification, he was obliged to 
explain the whole stratagem to Pierre, in order to bring 
him to his senses. 

We were sitting, on the following morning, in the 
passage-way between the gates, conversing with the traders 
Vaskiss and May. These two men, together with our 
sleek friend, the clerk Monthalon, were, I believe, the 
only persons then in the fort who could read and write. 
May was telling a curious story about the traveller Catlin, 
when an ugly, diminutive Indian, wretchedly mounted, 
came up at a gallop, and rode by us into the fort. On 



104 THE OREGON TRAIL 

being questioned, he said that Smoke's village was close 
at hand. Accordingly only a few minutes elapsed before 
the hills beyond the river were covered \vith a disorderly 
swarm of savages, on horseback and on foot. May fin- 
ished his story ; and by that time the whole array had 
descended to Laramie Creek, and begun to cross it in a 
mass. I walked down to the bank. The stream is wide, 
and was then between three and four feet deep, with a 
very swift current. For several rods the water was alive 
with dogs, horses, and Indians. The long poles used in 
pitching the lodges are carried by the horses, fastened 
by the heavier end, two or three on each side, to a rude 
sort of pack-saddle, while the other end drags on the 
ground. About a foot behind the horse, a kind of large 
basket or pannier is suspended between the poles, and 
firmly lashed in its place. On the back of the horse 
are piled various articles of luggage ; the basket also is 
well filled with domestic utensils, or, quite as often, with 
a litter of puppies, a brood of small children, or a super- 
annuated old man. Numbers of these curious vehicles, 
traineaux, or, as the Canadians called them, travaux, were 
now splashing together through the stream. Among 
them swam countless dogs, often burdened with miniature 
traineaux; and dashing forward on horseback through 
the throng came the warriors, the slender figure of some 
lynx-eyed boy clinging fast behind them. The women 
sat perched on the pack-saddles, adding not a little to the 
load of the already overburdened horses. The confusion 
was prodigious. The dogs yelled and howled in chorus ; 
the puppies in the traineaux set up a dismal whine as the 
water invaded their comfortable retreat ; the little black- 
eyed children, from one year of age upward, clung fast 
with both hands to the edge of their basket, and looked 
Qver in alarm at the water rushing so near them, sputter 



SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE. 105 

ing and making wry mouths as it splashed against theii 
faces. Some of the dogs, encumbered by their load, were 
carried down by the current, yelping piteously ; and the 
old squaws would rush into the water, seize their favorites 
by the neck, and drag them out. As each horse gained 
the bank, he scrambled up as he could. Stray horses 
and colts came among the rest, often breaking away at 
full speed through the crowd, followed by the old hags, 
screaming after their fashion on all occasions of excite- 
ment. Buxom young squaws, blooming in all the charms 
of vermilion, stood here and there on the bank, holding 
aloft their master's lance, as a signal to collect the seal 
tered portions of his household. In a few moments the 
crowd melted away ; each family, with its horses and 
equipage, filing off to the plain at the rear of the fort ; 
and here, in the space of half an hour, arose sixty or 
seventy of their tapering lodges. Their horses were 
feeding by hundreds over the surrounding prairie, and 
their dogs were roaming everywhere. The fort was full 
of warriors, and the children were whooping and yelling 
incessantly under the walls. 

These new-comers were scarcely arrived, when Bor 
deaux ran across the fort, shouting to his squaw to bring 
him his spy-glass. The obedient Marie, the very model 
of a squaw, produced the instrument, and Bordeaux 
hurried with it to the wall. Pointing it eastward, he 
exclaimed, with an oath, that the families were coming. 
But a f^w moments elapsed before the heavy caravan of 
the emigrant wagons could be seen, steadily advancing 
from the hills. They gained the river, and, without turn- 
ing or pausing, plunged in, passed through, and slowly 
ascending the opposing bank, kept directly on their waj* 
by the fort and the Indian village, until, gaining a spot a 
quarter of a mile distant, they wheeled into a circle. Fox 



106 THE ORilGON TRAIL. 

some time our tranquillity was undisturbed. The emi« 
grants were preparing their encampment ; but no sooner 
was this accomplished, than Fort Laramie was taken hy 
storm. A crowd of broad-brimmed hats, thin visages, 
and staring eyes, appeared suddenly at the gate. Tall, 
awkward men, in brown homespun ; women, with cadav- 
erous faces and long lank figures, came thronging in 
together, and^ as if inspired by the very demon of curios- 
ity, ransacked every nook and corner of the fort. Dis- 
mayed at this invasion, we withdrew in all speed to our 
chamber, vainly hoping that it might prove a sanctuary. 
The emigrants prosecuted their investigations with untir- 
ing vigor. They penetrated the rooms, or rather dens, 
inhabited by the astonished squaws. Resolved to search 
every mystery to the bottom, they explored the apart- 
ments of the men, and even that of Marie and the bour- 
geois. At last a numerous deputation appeared at our 
door, but found no encouragement to remain. 

Having at length satisfied their curiosity, they next 
proceeded to business. The men occupied themselves in 
procuring supplies for their onward journey ; either buy- 
ing them, or giving in exchange superfluous articles of 
their own. 

The emigrants felt a violent prejudice against the 
French Indians, as they called the trappers and traders. 
They thought, and with some reason, that these men bore 
them no good-will. Many of them were firmly persuaded 
that the French were instigating the Indians to attack 
and cut them off. On visiting the encampment we were 
at once struck with the extraordinary perplexity and 
indecision that prevailed among them. They seemed like 
men totally out of their element; bewildered and amazed, 
Uke a troop of schoolboys lost in the woods. It was 
impossible to be long among them without being con- 



SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE. 107 

Bcious of the bold spirit with which most of them were 
animated. But the forest is the home of the backwoods- 
man. On the remote prairie he is totally at a loss. He 
differs as much from the genuine '* mountain-man " as a 
Canadian voyageur, paddling his canoe on the rapids of 
the Ottawa, differs from an American sailor among the 
storms of Cape Horn. Still my companion and I were 
Bomewliat at a loss to account for this perturbed state of 
mind. It could not be cowardice: these men were of the 
same stock with the volunteers of Monterey and Buena 
Vista. Yet, for the most part, they were the rudest and 
most ignorant of the frontier population ; they knew 
absolutely nothing of the country and its inhabitants; 
they had already experienced much misfortune, and 
apprehended more ; they had seen nothing of mankind, 
and liad never put their own resources to the test. 

A full share of suspicion fell upon us. Being strangers, 
we were looked upon as enemies. Having occasion for a 
supply of lead and a few other necessary articles, we used 
to go over to the emigrant camps to obtain them. After 
some hesitation, some dubious glances, and fumbling of the 
hands in the pockets, the terms would be agreed upon, 
the price tendered, and the emigrant would go off to bring 
the article in question. After waiting until our patience 
gave out, we would go in search of him, and find him 
seated on the tongue of his wagon. 

"Well, stranger," he would observe, as he saw us ap- 
proach, " I reckon I won't trade." 

Some friend of his had followed him from the scene of 
the bargain, and whispered in his ear that clearly we meant 
to cheat him, and he had better have nothing to do with us 

This timorous mood of the emigrants was doubly un- 
fortunate, as it exposed them to real danger. Assume, in 
the jaresence of Indians, a bold bearing, self-confident yet 



108 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

vigilant, and you will find them tolerably safe neighbors. 
But your safety depends on the respect and fear you are 
able to inspire. If you betray timidity or indecision, yoa 
convert them from that moment into insidious and dan- 
gerous enemies. The Dahcotah saw clearly enough the 
perturbation of the emigrants, and instantly availed them- 
selves of it. They became extremely insolent and exact- 
ing in their demands. It has become an established 
custom with them to go to the camp of every party, as it 
arrives in succession at the fort, and demand a feast. 
Smoke's village had come with this express design, hav- 
ing made several days' journey with no other object than 
that of enjoying a cup of coffee and two or three biscuit. 
So the " feast " was demanded, and the emigrants dared 
not refuse it. 

One evening, about sunset, the village was deserted. 
We met old men, warriors, squaws, and children in gay 
attire, trooping off to the encampment, with faces of an- 
ticipation ; and, arriving here, they seated themselves in 
a semicircle. Smoke occupied the centre, with his war- 
riors on either hand ; the young men and boys came next, 
and the squaws and children formed the horns of the 
crescent. The biscuit and coffee were promptly des- 
patched, the emigrants staring open-mouthed at their 
savage guests. With each emigrant party that arrived 
at Fort Laramie this scene was renewed ; and every day 
the Indians grew more rapacious and presumptuous. One 
evening they broke in pieces, out of mere wantonness, the 
cups from which they had been feasted ; and this so ex- 
asperated the emigrants, that many of them seized their 
rifles and could scarcely be restrained from firing on the 
insolent mob of Indians. Before we left the country this 
dangerous spirit on the part of the Dahcotah had mounted 
to a yet higher pitch. They began openly to threaten the 



SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE. l09 

emigrants with destruction, and actually fired upon one or 
two parties of them. A military force and military law 
are urgently called for in that perilous region ; and unless 
troops are speedily stationed at Fort Laramie, or else- 
where in the neighborhood, both emigrants and other 
travellers will be exposed to most imminent risks. 

The Ogillallah, the BruM, and the other western bands 
of the Dahcotah or Sioux, are thorough savages, un- 
changed by any contact with civilization. Not one of 
them can speak a European tongue, or has ever visited an 
American settlement. Until within a year or two, when 
the emigrants began to pass through their country on the 
way to Oregon, they had seen no whites, except the few 
employed about the Fur Company's posts. They thought 
them a wise people, inferior only to themselves, living in 
leather lodges, like their own, and subsisting on buffalo. 
But when the swarm of MeneasJca, with their oxen and 
wagons, began to invade them, their astonishment was 
unbounded. They could scarcely believe that the earth 
contained such a multitude of white men. Their wonder 
is now giving way to indignation ; and the result, unless 
vigilantly guarded against, may be lamentable in the ex 
treme. 

But to glance at the interior of a lodge. Shaw and I 
used often to visit them. Indeed we spent most of our 
evenings in the Indian village, Shaw's assumption of the 
medical character giving us a fair pretext. As a sample 
of the rest I will describe one of these visits. The sun 
had just set, and the horses were driven into the corral. 
The Prairie Cock, a noted beau, came in at the gate 
with a bevy of young girls, with whom he began a dance 
in the area, leading them round and round in a circle, 
while he jerked up from his chest a succession of monot- 
onous sounds, to which they kept time in a rueful chant 



110 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

Outside the gate boys and young men were idly frolicking ; 
and close }jy, looking grimly upon them, stood a warrior 
in his robe, with his face painted jet-black, in token that 
he had lately taken a Pawnee scalp. Passing these, the 
tall dark lodges rose between us and the red western sky. 
We repaired at once to the lodge of Old Smoke himself. 
It was by no means better than the others ; indeed, it was 
rather shabby ; for in this democratic community the chief 
never assumes superior state. Smoke sat cross-legged on 
a buffalo-robe, and his grunt of salutation as we entered 
was unusually cordial, out of respect no doubt to Shaw's 
medical character. Seated around the lodge were several 
squaws, and an abundance of children. The complaint 
of Shaw's patients was, for the most part, a severe inflam- 
mation of the eyes, occasioned by exposure to the sun, a 
species of disorder which he treated with some success. 
He had brought with him a homoeopathic medicine-chest, 
and was, I presume, the first who introduced that harm- 
less system of treatment among the Ogillallah. No sooner 
had a robe been spread at the head* of the lodge for our 
accommodation, and we had seated ourselves upon it, 
than a patient made her appearance : the chief's daughter 
herself, who, to do her justice, was the best-looking girl 
in the village. Being on excellent terms with the physi- 
cian, she placed herself readily under his hands, and sub- 
mitted with a good grace to his applications, laughing in 
his face during the whole process, for a squaw hardly 
knows how to smile. This case despatched, another of 
a different kind succeeded. A hideous, emaciated old wo 
man sat in the darkest corner of the lodge, rocking to and 
fro with pain, and hiding her eyes from the light by press 
ing the palms of both hands against her face. At Smoke'a 
command she came forward, very unwillingly, and ex- 
liibitcd a pair of eyes that had nearly disappeared from 



SCENES AT FORT LARAMIE. Ill 

excess of inflammation. No sooner had the doctor fastened 
his grip upon her, than she set up a dismal moaning, and 
writhed so in his grasp that he lost all patience ; hut being 
resolved to carry his point, he succeeded at last in apply- 
ing his favorite remedies. 

" It is strange," he said, when the operation was fin 
ished, " that I forgot to bring any Spanish flies with me \ 
we must have something here to answer for a counter- 
irritant." 

So, in the absence of better, he seized upon a red-hot 
brand from the fire, and clapped it against the temple of 
the old squaw, who set up an unearthly howl, at which the 
rest of the family broke into a laugh. 

During these medical operations Smoke's eldest squaw 
entered the lodge, with a mallet in her hand, the stone 
head of which, precisely like those sometimes ploughed 
up in the fields of New England, was made fast to the 
handle by a covering of raw hide. I had observed some 
time before a litter of well-grown black puppies, comfort- 
ably nestled among some buffalo-robes at one side ; but 
this new-comer speedily disturbed their enjoyment ; for 
seizing one of them by the hind paw, she dragged him 
out, and carrying him to the entrance of the lodge, ham- 
mered him on the head till she killed him. Conscious to 
what this preparation tended, I looked through a hole in 
the back of the lodge to see the next steps of the process. 
The squaw, holding the puppy by the legs, was swinging 
him to and fro through the blaze of a fire, until the hair 
was singed off. This done, she unsheathed her knife and 
cut him into small pieces, which she dropped into a kettle 
to boil. In a few moments a large wooden dish was set 
before us, filled with this delicate preparation. A dog- 
feast is the greatest compliment a Dahcotah can offer to 
his guest; and, knowing that to refuse eating would be an 



112 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

affront, we attacked the little dog, and devoured him 
before the eyes of his unconscious parent. Smoke in the 
mean time was preparing his great pipe. It was lighted 
when we had finished our repast, and we passed it from 
one to another till the bowl was empty. This done, we 
took our leave without farther ceremony, knocked at the 
gate of the fort, and after making ourselves known, were 
admitted. 



CHAPTER X. 

THE WAR PARTIES. 

nnHE summer of 1846 was a season of warlike excite* 
-■- ment among all the western bands of the Dahcotah. 
In 1845 they encountered great reverses. Many war 
parties had been sent out ; some of them had been cut 
off, and others had returned broken and disheartened ; so 
that the whole nation was in mourning. Among the rest, 
ten warriors had gone to the Snake country, led by the 
son of a prominent Ogillallah chief, called The Whirlwind. 
In passing over Laramie Plains they encountered a supe- 
rior number of their enemies, were surrounded, and killed 
to a man. Having performed this exploit, the Snakes 
became alarmed, dreading the resentment of the Dahcotah 
and they hastened therefore to signify their wish for peace 
by sending the scalp of the slain partisan, with a small 
parcel of tobacco attached, to his tribesmen and relations. 
They had employed old Yaskiss, the trader, as their mes- 
senger, and the scalp was the same that hung in our 
;oom at the fort. But The Whirlwind proved inexorable. 
Though his character hardly corresponds with his name, 
ho is nevertheless an Indian, and hates the Snakes with his 
Tfhoie soul. Long before the scalp arrived, he had made 
his preparations for revenge. He sent messengers witb 
presents and tobacco to all the Dahcotah within three 
hundred miles, proposing a grand combination to chastise 

the Snakes, and naming a place and time of rendezvous, 

_« — — > 



114 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

The plan was readily adopted, and at this moment maii^ 
villages, probably embracing in the whole five or six 
thousand souls, were slowly creeping over the prairies 
and tending toward the common centre at "La Bont^'s 
camp," on the Platte. Here their warlike rites were to 
be celebrated with more than ordinary solemnity, and a 
thousand warriors, as it was said, were to set out for 
the enemy's country. The characteristic result of this 
preparation will appear in the sequel. 

I was greatly rejoiced to hear of it. I had come into 
the country chiefly with a view of observing the Indian 
character. To accomplish my purpose it was necessary 
to live in the midst of them, and become, as it were, one 
of them. I proposed to join a village, and make myself 
an inmate of one of their lodges ; and henceforward this 
narrative, so far as I am concerned, will be chiefly a record 
of the progress of this design, and the unexpected impedi- 
ments that opposed it. 

We resolved on no account to miss the rendezvous at 
" La Bonte's camp." Our plan was to leave Deslauriers 
at the fort, in charge of our equipage and the better part 
of our horses, while we took with us nothing but our 
weapons and the worst animals we had. In all proba- 
bility, jealousies and quarrels would arise among so many 
hordes of fierce impulsive savages, congregated together 
under no common head, and many of them strangers 
from remote prairies and mountains. We were bound in 
common prudence to be cautious how we excited any feel- 
ing of cupidity. This was our plan ; but unhappily we 
were not destined to visit " La Bonte's camp " in this 
manner, for one morning a young Indian' came to the 
fort and brouglit us evil tidings. The new-comer was an 
arrant dandy. His ugly face was painted with vermilion ; 
on his head fluttered the tail of a prairie-cock (a large 



THE WAR PARTIES. 115 

apeciea of pheasant, not found, as I have heard, eastward 
of the Rocky Mountains) ; in his ears were hung pen- 
dants of shell, and a flaming red blanket was wrapped 
around him. He carried a dragoon-sword in his hand, 
solely for display, since the knife, the arrow, and the rifle 
are the arbiters of every prairie fight ; but as no one in 
this country goes abroad unarmed, the dandy carried a 
bow and arrows in an otter-skin quiver at his back. In 
this guise, and bestriding his yellow horse with an air of 
extreme dignity, '' The Horse," for that wa§ his name, 
rode in at the gate, turning neither to the right nor the 
left, but casting glances askance at the groups of squaws 
who, with their mongrel progeny, were sitting in the sun 
before their doors. The evil tidings brought by " The 
Horse " were of the following import : The squaw of 
Henry Chatillon, a woman with whom he had been con- 
nected for years by the strongest ties which in that coun- 
try exist between the sexes, was dangerously ill. She 
and her children were in the village of The Whirlwind, at 
the distance of a few days' journey. Henry was anxious 
to see the woman before she died, and provide for the 
safety and support of his children, of whom he was ex- 
tremely fond. To have refused him this would have 
been inhumanity. We abandoned our plan of joining 
Smoke's village, and proceeding with it to the rendez- 
vous, and determined to meet The Whirlwind, and go in 
his company. 

I had been slightly ill for several weeks, but on the 
third night after reaching Fort Laramie a violent pain 
awoke me, and I found myself attacked by the same dis- 
order that occasioned such heavy losses to the army on 
the Rio Grande. In a day and a half I was reduced to 
extreme weakness, so that I could not walk without pain 
and effort. Having no medical adviser, nor any choice 



116 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

of diet, I resolved to throw myself upon Providence for 
recovery, using, without regard to the disorder, any por- 
tion of strength that might remain to me. So on the 
twentieth of June we set out from Fort Laramie to meet 
The Whirlwind's village. Though aided by the high- 
bowed '' mountain-saddle," I could scarcely keep my seat 
on horseback. Before we left the fort we hired another 
man, a long-haired Canadian, named Raymond, with a 
face like an owl's, contrasting oddly enough with Des- 
lauriers's mercurial countenance. This was not the only 
reinforcement to our party. A vagrant Indian trader, 
named Reynal, joined us, together with his squaw. Mar- 
got, and her two nephews, our dandy friend, " The 
Horse," and his younger brother, " The Hail Storm." 
Thus accompanied, we betook ourselves to the prairie, 
leaving the beaten trail, and passing over the desolate 
hills that flank the valley of Laramie Creek. In all, 
Indians and whites, we counted eight men and one 
woman. 

Reynal, the trader, the image of sleek and selfish com- 
placency, carried " The Horse's " dragoon-sword in his 
liand, delighting apparently in this useless parade ; for, 
from spending half his life among Indians, he had caught 
not only their habits but their ideas. Margot, a female 
animal of more than two hundred pounds' weight, was 
couched in the basket of a traineau, such as I liave before 
described ; besides her ponderous bulk, various domestic 
utensils were attached to the vehicle, and she led by a 
trail-rope a packhorse, which carried the covering of 
Reynal's lodge. Deslauriers walked briskly by the side 
of the cart, and Raymond came behind, swearing at the 
spare horses which it was his business to drive. The 
restless young Indians, their quivers at their backs and 
their bows in their hands, galloped over the hills, often 



THE WAR PARTIES. Ill 

Btarting a wolf or an antelope from the thick growth of 
wild-sage bushes. Shaw and I were in keeping with the 
rest of the rude cavalcade, having in the failure of other 
clothing adopted the buckskin attire of the trappers. 
Henry Chatillon rode in advance of the whole. Thus we 
passed hill after hill and hollow after hollow, a country 
arid, broken, and so parched by the sun that none of the 
plants familiar to our more favored soil would flourish 
upon it, though there were multitudes of strange medici- 
nal herbs, more especially the absinth, which covered 
every declivity, while cacti were hanging like reptiles at 
the edges of every ravine. At length we ascended a high 
hill, our horses treading upon pebbles of flint, agate, and 
rough jasper, until, gaining the top, we looked down on 
the wild bottoms of Laramie Creek, which far below us 
wound like a writhing snake from side to side of the 
narrow interval, amid a growth of shattered cotton-wood 
and ash trees. Lines of tall cliffs, white as chalk, shut 
in this green strip of woods and meadow-land, into which 
we descended and encamped for the night. In the morn- 
ing we passed a wide grassy plain by the river ; there 
was a grove in front, and beneath its shadows the ruins 
of an old trading fort of logs. The grove bloomed with 
myriads of wild roses, with their sweet perfume fraught 
with recollections of home. As we emerged from tl>e 
trees, a rattlesnake, as large as a man's arm, and more 
than four feet long, lay coiled on a rock, fiercely rattling 
and hissing at us ; a gray hare, twice as large as those 
of New England, leaped up from the tall ferns ; curlew 
flew screaming over our heads, and a host of little prairie- . 
dogs sat yelping at us at the mouths of their burrows on 
the dry plain beyond. Suddenly an antelope leaped up 
from the wild-sage bushes, gazed eagerly at us, and then, 
erecting his white tail, stret^ihed away like a greyhound 



118 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

The two Indian boys found a white wolf, as large as a 
calf, in a hollow, and, giving a sharp yell, they galloped 
after him ; but the wolf leaped into the stream and swam 
across. Then came the crack of a rifle, the bullet 
whistling harmlessly over his head, as he scrambled up 
the steep declivity, rattling down stones and earth into 
the water below. Advancing a little, we beheld, on the 
farther bank of the stream, a spectacle not common even 
in that region ; for, emerging from among the trees, a 
herd of some two hundred elk came out upon the meadow, 
their antlers clattering as they walked forward in a dense 
throng. Seeing us, they broke into a run, rushing across 
the opening and disappearing among the trees and scat- 
tered groves. On our left was a barren prairie, stretching 
to the horizon ; on our right, a deep gulf, with Laramie 
Creek at the bottom. We found ourselves at length at 
the edge of a steep descent ; a narrow valley, with lon^ 
rank grass and scattered trees stretching before us for a 
mile or more along the course of the stream. Reaching 
the farther end, we stopped and encamped. A huge old 
cotton-wood tree spread its branches horizontally over our 
tent. Laramie Creek, circling before our camp, half 
inclosed us ; it swept along the bottom of a line of tall 
white cliffs that looked down on us from the farther bank. 
There were dense copses on our right ; the cliifs, too, 
were half hidden by bushes, though behind us a few 
cotton-wood trees, dotting the green prairie, alone im- 
peded the view, and friend or enemy could be discerned 
in that direction at a mile's distance. Here we resolved 
to remain and await the arrival of The Whirlwind, who 
would certainly pass this way in his progress towards La 
Bont^'s camp. To go in search of him was not exped- 
ient, both on account of the broken and impracticable 
nature of the country, and the uncertainty of his position 



THE WAS PARTIES. 119 

and movements ; besides, our horses were almost worn 
out, and 1 was in no condition to travel. We liad good 
grass, good water, tolerable fish from the stream, and 
plenty of small game, such as antelope and deer, though 
no buffalo. There was one little drawback to our satis- 
faction: a certain extensive tract of bushes and dried 
grass, just behind us, which it was by no means advisable 
to enter, since it sheltered a numerous brood of rattle- 
snakes. Henry Chatillon again despatched " The Horse" 
to the village, with a message to his squaw that she and 
her relatives sliould leave the rest and push on as rapidly 
as possible to our camp. 

Our daily routine soon became as regular as that of a 
well-ordered household. The weather-beaten old tree 
was in the centre ; our rifles generally rested against its 
vast trunk, and our saddles were flung on the ground 
around it ; its distorted roots were so twisted as to form 
one or two convenient arm-chairs, where we could sit in 
the shade and read or smoke ; but meal-times became, on 
the whole, the most interesting hours of the day, and a 
bountiful provision was made for them. An antelope or a 
deer usually swung from a bough, and haunches were sus- 
pended against the trunk. That camp is daguerreotyped 
on my memory : the old tree, the white tent, with Shaw 
sleeping in the shadow of it, and Reynal's miserable lodge 
close by the bank of the stream. It was a wretched oven- 
shaped structure, made of begrimed and tattered buffalo- 
hides stretched over a frame of poles ; one side was open, 
and at the side of the opening hung the powder-horn and 
bullet-pouch of the owner, together with his long red pipe, 
and a rich quiver of otter-skin, with a bow and arrows ; 
for Reynal, an Indian in most things but color, chose to 
hunt buffalo with these primitive weapons. In the dark- 
ness of this cavern-like habitation might be discerned 



120 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

Madame Margot, her overgrown bulk stowed away among 
her domestic implements, furs, robes, blankets, and painted 
cases of raw hide, in which dried meat is kept. Here she 
sat from sunrise to sunset, an impersonation of gluttony 
and laziness, while her affectionate proprietor was smok- 
ing, or begging petty gifts from us, or telling lies concern- 
ing his own achievements, or perchance engaged in the 
more profitable occupation of cooking some preparation 
of prairie delicacies. Reynal was an adept at this work ; 
he and Deslauriers have joined forces, and are hard at 
work together over the fire, while Eaymond spreads, by 
way of table-cloth, a buffalo-hide carefully whitened with 
pipe-clay, on the grass before the tent. Here he arranges 
the teacups and plates ; and then, creeping on all fours, 
like a dog, thrusts his head in at the opening of the tent. 
For a moment we see his round owlish eyes rolling wildly, 
as if the idea he came to communicate had suddenly es- 
caped him ; then collecting his scattered thoughts, as if 
by an effort, he informs us that supper is ready, and in- 
stantly withdraws. 

When sunset came, and at that hour the wild and des- 
olate scene would assume a new aspect, the horses were 
driven in. They had been grazing all day in the neighbor- 
ing meadow, but now they were picketed close about the 
camp. As the prairie darkened we sat and conversed 
around the fire, until, becoming drowsy, we spread our 
saddles on the ground, wrapped our blankets around us, 
and lay down. We never placed a guard, having by this 
time become too indolent ; but Henry Chatillon folded his 
loaded rifle in the same blanket with himself, observing 
that he always took it to bed with him when he 'camped 
in that place. Henry was too bold a man to use such a 
precaution without good cause. We had a hint now and 
then that our situation was none of the safest ; several 



THE WAR PARTIES. 121 

Crow war-parties were known to be in the vicinity, and 
one of them, that passed here some time before, had 
peeled the bark from a neighboring tree, and engraved 
upon the white wood certain hieroglyphics, to signify that 
they had invaded the territories of their enemies, the 
Dahcotah, and set them at defiance. One morning a thick 
mist covered the whole country. Shaw and Henry went 
out to ride, and soon came back with a startling piece of 
intelligence ; they had found within rifle-shot of our camp 
the recent trail of about thirty horsemen. They could 
not be whites, and they could not be Dahcotah, since we 
knew no such parties to be in the neighborhood ; there 
fore they must be Crows. Thanks to that friendly mist, 
we had escaped a hard battle ; they would inevitably have 
attacked us and our Indian companions had they seen our 
camp. Whatever doubts we might have entertained, were 
removed a day or two after, by two or three Dahcotah, 
who came to us with an account of having hidden in a 
rsivine on that very morning, from whence they saw and 
counted the Crows ; they said that they followed them, 
carefully keeping out of sight, as they passed up Chug- 
water ; that here the Crows discovered five dead bodies 
of Dahcotah, placed according to custom in trees, and 
flinging them to the ground, held their guns against them 
and blew them to atoms. 

If our camp were not altogether safe, still it was com- 
fortable enough ; at least it was so to Shaw, for I was 
tormented with illness and vexed by the delay in the ac- 
complishment of my designs. When a respite in my dis- 
order gave me some returning strength, I rode out well 
armed upon the prairie, or bathed with Shaw in the stream, 
or waged a petty warfare with the inhabitants of a neigh- 
boring prairie-dog village. Around our fire at night we 
employed ourselves in inveighing against the fickleness 



122 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

and inconstancy of Indians, and execrating The Whirl- 
wind and all his crew. At last the thing grew insuffer- 
able. 

" To-morrow morning," said I, " I will start for the 
fort, and see if I can hear any news there." Late that 
evening, when the fire had sunk low, and all the camp 
were asleep, a loud cry sounded from the darkness. 
Henrj leaped up, recognized the voice, replied to it, and 
our dandy friend, " The Horse," rode in among us, just 
returned from his mission to the village. He coolly 
picketed his mare, without saying a word, sat down by 
the fire and began to eat, but liis imperturbable philosophy 
was too much for our patience. Where was the village ? 
-about fifty miles south of us ; it was moving slowly, and 
would not arrive in less than a week. And where was 
Henry's squaw ? — coming as fast as she could with Mahto- 
Tatonka, and the rest of her brothers, but she would 
never reach us, for she was dying, and asking every mo- 
ment for Henry. Henry's manly face became clouded 
and downcast ; he said that if we were willing he would 
go in the morning to find her, at which Shaw offered to 
accompany him. 

We saddled our horses at sunrise. Reynal protested 
vehemently against being left alone, with nobody but the 
two Canadians and the young Indians, when enemies were 
in the neighborhood. Disregarding his complaints, we 
left him, and, coming to the mouth of Chugwater, sepa- 
rated, Shaw and Henry turning to the right, up the bank 
of the stream, while I made for the fort. 

Taking leave for a while of my friend and the unfortu- 
nate squaw, I will relate by way of episode what I saw and 
did at Fort Laramie. It was not more than eighteen miles 
distant, and I reached it in three hours. A shrivelled 
little figure, wrapped from head to foot in a dingy white 



THE WAR PARTIES. 123 

Canadian capote, stood in the gateway, holding by a cord 
of bull-hide a shaggy wild-horse, which he had lately 
caught. His sharp prominent features, and liis keen 
snake-like eyes, looked out from beneath the shadowy 
hood of the capote, which was drawn over his head like 
the cowl of a Capuchin friar. His face was like an old 
piece of leather, and his mouth spread from ear to ear. 
Extending his long wiry hand, he welcomed me witL 
something . more cordial than the ordinary cold salute of 
an Indian, for we were excellent friends. We had made 
an exchange of horses to our mutual advantage ; and 
Paul, thinking himself well treated, had declared every- 
where that the white man had a good heart. He was a 
Dahcotah from the Missouri, a reputed son of the half- 
breed interpreter, Pierre Dorion, so often mentioned in 
Irving's " Astoria." He said that he was going to Rich- 
ard's trading-house to sell his horse to some emigrants, 
who were encamped there, and asked me to go with him. 
We forded the stream together, Paul dragging his wild 
charge behind him. As we passed over the sandy plains 
beyond, he grew communicative. Paul was a cosmopol- 
itan in his way ; he had been to the settlements of the 
whites, and visited in peace and war most of the tribes 
within the range of a thousand miles. He spoke a jargon 
of French and another of English, yet nevertheless he 
was a thorough Indian ; and as he told of the bloody 
deeds of his own people against their enemies, his little 
eyes would glitter with a fierce lustre. He told how the 
Dahcotah exterminated a village of the Hohays on the 
Upper Missouri, slaughtering men, women, and children ; 
and how, in overwhelming force, they cut off sixteen of 
the brave Delawares, who fought like wolves to the last, 
amid the throng of their enemies. He told me also an- 
otliei story, which I did not believe until I had heard it 



124 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

confirmed from so many independent sources that mj 
Bkepticism was almost overcome. 

Six years ago, a fellow named Jim Beckworth, a mon 
grel of French, American, and negro blood, was trading 
for the Fur Company, in a large village of the Crows. Jim 
Beckwortli was last summer at St. Louis. He is a ruffian 
of the worst stamp ; bloody and treacherous, without 
hono : or honesty ; such at least is the character he bears! 
upon ihe prairie. Yet in his case the standard rules of 
character fail, for though he will stab a man in his sleep, 
he will also perform most desperate acts of daring ; 
such, for instance, as the following: While he was in 
the Crow village, a Blackfoot war-party, between thirty 
and forty in number, came stealing through the coun- 
try, killing stragglers and carrying off horses. The 
Crow warriors got upon their trail and pressed them so 
closely that they could not escape, at which the Black- 
feet, throwing up a semi-circular breastwork of logs at 
the foot of a precipice, coolly awaited their approach. 
The logs and sticks, piled four or five feet high, protected 
them in front. The Crows might have swept over the 
breastwork and exterminated their enemies ; but though 
outnumbering them tenfold, they did not dream of storm- 
ing the little fortification. Such a proceeding would be 
altogether repugnant to their notions of warfare. Whoop 
ing and yelling, and jumping from side to side like devils 
incarnate, they showered bullets and arrows upon the 
logs ; not a Blackfoot was hurt, but several Crows, in 
spite of theii leaping and dodging, were shot down. In 
this childish manner, the fight went on for an hour oi- 
two. Now and then a Crow warrior in an ecstasy of 
valor and vainglory would scream forth his war-song, 
boast himself the bravest and greatest of mankind, 
grasp his hatchet, rush up, strike it upon the breastwork^ 



THE WAR PARTIES. 125 

dnd then as he retreated to his companions, fall dead 
under a shower of arrows ; yet no combined attack was 
made. The Blackfeet remained secure in their intrench- 
ment. At last Jim Beckworth lost patience. 

" You are all fools and old women," he said to the 
Crows ; " come with me, if any of you are brave enough, 
and I will show you how to fight." 

He threw off his trapper's frock of buckskin and 
stripped himself naked, like the Indians themselves. He 
left his rifle on the ground, took in his hand a small light 
hatchet, and ran over the prairie to the right, concealed 
by a hollow from the eyes of the Blackfeet. Then climb- 
ing up the rocks, he gained the top of the precipice behind 
them. Forty or fifty young Crow warriors followed him. 
By the cries and whoops that rose from below he knew 
that the Blackfeet were just beneath him ; and running 
forward he leaped down the rock into the midst of them. 
As he fell he caught one by the long loose hair, and 
dragging him down tomahawked him; then grasping 
another by the belt at his waist, he struck him also a 
stunning blow, and, gaining his feet, shouted the Crow 
war-cry. He swung his hatchet so fiercely around him, 
that the astonished Blackfeet bore back and gave him 
room. He might, had he chosen, have leaped over the 
breastwork and escaped ; but this was not necessary, for 
with devilish yells the Crow warriors came dropping in 
quick succession over the rock among their enemies. The 
main body of the Crows, too, answered the cry from the 
front, and rushed up simultaneously. The convulsive 
struggle within the breastwork was frightful ; for an in- 
stant the Blackfeet fought and yelled like pent-up tigers ; 
but the butchery was soon complete, and the mangled 
bodies lay piled together under the precipice. Not a 
Blackfoot made his escape. 



126 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

As Paul finished his story we came in sight of Rich- 
ard's Fort, a disorderly crowd of men around it, and an 
emigrant camp a little in front. 

" Now, Paul," said I, " where are your Minnicongew 
lodges?" 

"Not come yet," said Paul; "maybe come to-morrow." 

Two large villages of a band of Dahcotah had come 
three hundred miles from the Missouri, to join in the war, 
and they were expected to reach Richard's that morning. 
There was as yet no sign of their approach ; so pushing 
through a noisy, drunken crowd, I entered an apartment 
of logs and mud, the largest in the fort : it was full of 
men of various races and complexions, all more or less 
drunk. A company of California emigrants, it seemed, 
had made the discovery at this late day that they had 
encumbered themselves With too many supplies for their 
journey. A part, therefore, they had thrown away, or sold 
at great loss to the traders ; but had determined to get rid 
of their very copious stock of Missouri whiskey, by drink- 
ing it on the spot. Here were maudlin squaws stretched 
on piles of buffalo-robes ; squalid Mexicans, armed with 
bows and arrows ; Indians sedately drunk ; long-haired 
Canadians and trappers, and American backwoodsmen in 
brown homespun, the well-beloved pistol and bowie-knife 
displayed openly at their sides. In the middle of the 
room a tall, lank man, with a dingy broadcloth coat, was 
haranguing the company in the style of the stump orator. 
With one hand he sawed the air, and with the other 
clutched firmly a brown jug of whiskey, which he applied 
every moment to his lips, forgetting that he had drained 
the contents long ago. Richard formally introduced me 
to this personage, who was no less a man than Colonel 
R , once the leader of the party. Instantly the Colo- 
nel seizing me, in the absence of buttons, by the leather 



THE WAR PARTIES. 127 

fHnges of my frock, began to define his position. Hia 
men, he said, had mutinied and deposed him ; but still 
he exercised over them the influence of a superior mind ; 
in all but the name he was yet their chief. As the Colo- 
nel spoke, I looked round on the wild assemblage, and 
could not help thinking that he was but ill fitted to con 
duct such men across the deserts to California. Con 
spicuous among the rest stood three tall young men, 
grandsons of Daniel Boone. They had clearly inherited 
the adventurous character of that prince of pioneers ; but 
I saw no signs of the quiet and tranquil spirit that so 
remarkably distinguished him. 

Fearful was the fate that, months after, overtook some 
of the members of that party. General Kearney, on his 
late return from California, brought back their story. 
They were interrupted bj the deep snows among the 
mountains, and, maddened by cold and hunger, fed upon 
each other's flesh ! 

I got tired of the confusion. " Come, Paul," said 1, 
*' we will be off"." Paul sat in the sun, under the wall 
of the fort. He jumped up, mounted, and we rode 
towards Fort Laramie. When we reached it, a man 
came out of the gate with a pack at his back and a rifle 
on his shoulder ; others were gathering about him, shak 
ing him by the hand, as if taking leave. I thought it a 
strange thing that a man should set out alone and on 
foot for the prairie. I soon got an explanation. Per 
rault — this, if I recollect right, was the Canadian's 
name — had quarrelled with the bourgeois^ and the fort 
was too hot to hold him. Bordeaux, inflated with his 
transient authority, had abused him, and received a blow 
in return. The men then sprang at each other, and 
grappled in the middle of the fort. Bordeaux was down 
in an instant, at the mercy of the incensed Canadian , 



1 2a THE OREGON TRAIL. 

had not an old Indian, the brother of his squaw, seized 
hold of his antagonist, it would have fared ill with him. 
Perrault broke loose from the old Indian, and both the 
white men ran to their rooms for their guns ; but when 
Bordeaux, looking from his door, saw the Canadian, gun 
in hand, standing in the area and calling on him to come 
out and fight, his heart failed him ; he chose to remain 
where he was. In vain the old Indian, scandalized bj 
his brother-in-law's cowardice, called upon him to go to 
the prairie and fight it out in the white man's manner ; 
and Bordeaux's own squaw, equally incensed, screamed 
to her lord and master that he was a dog and an old 
woman. It all availed nothing. Bordeaux's prudence 
got the better of his valor, and he would not stir. Per- 
rault stood showering opprobrious epithets at the recreant 
bourgeois^ till, growing tired of this, he made up a pack of 
dried meat, and, slinging it £irt his back, set out alone for 
Fort Pierre, on the Missouri, a distance of three hundred 
miles, over a desert country, full of hostile Indians. 

I remained in the fort that night. In the morning, as 
I was coming out from breakfast, talking witli a trader 
named McCluskey, I saw a strange Indian leaning against 
the side of the gate. He was a tall, strong man, with 
heavy features. 

"Who is he?" I asked. 

" That's The Whirlwind," said McCluskey. •' He is 
the fellow that made all this stir about the war. It's 
always the way with the Sioux ; they never stop cutting 
each other's throats ; it's all they are fit for ; instead of 
sitting in their lodges, and getting robes to trade with us 
in the winter. If this war goes on, we'll make a poor 
trade of it next season, I reckon." 

And this was the opinion of all the traders, who were 
vehemently opposed to the war, from the injury that it 



THE WAR PARTIES. 12b 

must occasion to their interests. The Whirlwind left his 
village the day before to make a visit to the fort. His 
warlike ardor had abated not a little since he first con- 
ceived the design of avenging his son's death. The long 
and complicated preparations for the expedition were too 
lauch for his fickle disposition. That morning Bordeaux 
fastened upon him, made him presents, and told him that 
if he went to war he would destroy his horses and kill no 
buffalo to trade with the white men ; in short, that he was 
a fool to think of such a thing, and had better make up 
his mind to sit quietly in his lodge and smoke his pipe, 
like a wise man. The Whirlwind's purpose was evidently 
shaken ; he had become tired, like a child, of his favorite 
plan. Bordeaux exultingly predicted that he would not 
go to war. My philanthropy was no match for my curi 
osity, and I was vexed at the possibility that after all 1 
might lose the rare opportunity of seeing the ceremonies 
of war. The Whirlwind, however, had merely thrown 
the firebrand ; the conflagration was become general. All 
the western bands of the Dahcotah were bent on war ; 
and, as I heard from McCluskey, six large villages were al 
ready gathered on a little stream, forty miles distant, and 
were daily calling to the Great Spirit to aid them in their 
enterprise. McCluskey had just left them, and repre- 
sented them as on their way to La Bont^'s camp, which 
they would reach in a week, unless they should learn that 
there were no buffalo there. I did not like this condition, 
for buffalo this season were rare in the neighborhood. 
I'here were also the two Minnicongew villages that I men- 
tioned before ; but about noon, an Indian came from 
Richard's Fort with the news that they were quarrelling 
breaking up, and dispersing. So much for the whiskey of 
the emigrants ! Finding themselves unable to drink the 
whole, they had sold the residue to thesf Indians, and it 

9 



130 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

needed no prophet to foretell the result ; a spark dropped 
into a powder-magazine would not have produced a quicker 
effect. Instantly the old jealousies and rivalries antl 
smothered feuds that exist in an Indian village broke out 
into furious quarrels. They forgot the warlike enterprisi* 
that had already brought them three hundred miles. The^ 
seemed like ungoverned childi'en inflamed with the fiercesi 
j)assions of men. Several of them were stabbed in th( 
drunken tumult ; and in the morning they scattered and 
moved back towards the Missouri in small parties. 1 
feared that, after all, the long-projected meeting and the 
ceremonies that were to attend it might never take place, 
and I should lose so admirable an opportunity of seeing 
the Indian under his most fearful and characteristic as- 
pect ; however, in foregoing this, I should avoid a very 
fair probability of being plundered and stripped, and it 
might be, stabbed or shot into the bargain. Consoling 
myself with this reflection, I prepared to carry the news, 
such as it was, to the "camp. 

I caught my horse, and to my vexation found that he 
had lost a shoe and broken his hoof against the rocks. 
Horses are shod at Fort Laramie at the moderate rate 
of three dollars a foot ; so I tied Hendrick to a beam in 
the corral, and summoned Roubidou, the blacksmith. 
Roubidou, with the hoof between his knees, was at work 
with hammer and file, and I was inspecting the process, 
when a strange voice addressed me. 

" Two more gone under ! Well, there's more cf us 
left yet. Here's Gingras and me off* to the mountains 
to-morrow. Our turn will come next, I suppose. It's a 
hard life, anyhow ! " 

I looked up and saw a man, not much more than five 
feet high, but of very square and strong proportions. In 
ap])earance he was particularly dingy ; for bis old buck 



THE WAR PARTIES. 131 

skin frock was black and polished with time and grease, 
and his belt, knife, pouch, and powder-horn appeared to 
have seen the roughest service. The first joint of each 
foot was entirely gone, having been frozen off several 
winters before, and his moccasins were curtailed in pro- 
portion. His whole appearance and equipment bespoke 
the " free trapper." He had a round ruddy face, ani- 
mated with a spirit of carelessness and gayety not at all 
in accordance with the words he had just spoken. 

" ' Two more gone,' " said I ; " what do you mean bj 
that ? " 

" Oh, the Arapahoes have just killed two of us in the 
mountains. Old Bull-Tail has come to tell us. They 
stabbed one behind his back, and shot the other with his 
own rifle. That's the way we live here ! I mean to give 
up trapping after this year. My squaw says she wants a 
pacing horse and some red ribbons: I'll make enough 
beaver to get them for her, and then I'm done ! I'll go 
below and live on a farm." 

" Your bones will dry on the prairie, Rouleau ! " said 
another trapper, who was standing by ; a strong, brutal- 
looking fellow, mth a face as surly as a bull-dog's. 

Rouleau only laughed, and began to hum a tune and 
shuffle a dance on his stumps of feet. 

" You'll see us, before long, passing up your way," said 
the other man. 

" Well," said I, " stop and take a cup of coffee with 
as;" and, as it was late in the afternoon, I prepared to 
leave the fort at once. 

As I rode out, a train of emigrant wagons was passing 
across the stream. " Whar are ye goin', stranger?" 
Thus I was saluted by two or three voices at once. 

"About eighteen miles up the creek." 

" It's mighty late to be going that far ! Make haste, 
ve'd better, and keep a bright look-out for Indians ' " 



132 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

I thought the advice too good to be neglected. "Fording 
the stream, I passed at a round trot over the plans beyond. 
But " the more haste, the worse speed." I proved the 
truth of the proverb by the time I reached the hills three 
miles from the fort. The trail was faintly marked, and, 
riding forward with more rapidity than caution, I lost 
sight of it. I kept on in a direct line, guided by Laramie 
Creek, which I could see at intervals darkly glistening in 
the evening sun, at the bottom of the woody gulf on my 
right. Half an hour before sunset I came upon its banks. 
There was something exciting in tlie wild solitude of the 
place. An antelope sprang suddenly from the sage- 
bushes before me. As he leaped gracefully not thirty 
yards before my horse, I fired, and instantly he spun 
round and fell. Quite sure of him, I walked my ho^so 
towards him, leisurely reloading my rifle, when, to my 
surprise he sprang up and trotted rapidly away on three 
legs, into the dark recesses of the hills, whither I had no 
time to follow. Ten minutes after, I was passing along 
the bottom of a deep valley, and, chancing to look behind 
me, I saw in the dim light that something was folluw iiig. 
Supposing it to be a wolf, I slid from my seat and sat 
down behind my horse to shoot it ; but as it came up, I saw 
by its motions that it was another antelope. It approached 
within a hundred yards, arched its neck, and gazed intently. 
I levelled at the white spot on its chest, and was about to 
fire, when it started off, ran first to one side and then to the 
otlier, like a vessel tacking against the wind, and at last 
stretched away at full speed. Then it stopped again, looked 
curiously behind it, and trotted up as before ; but not so 
boldly, for it soon paused and stood gazing at me. I 
fired ; it leaped upward and fell upon its tracks. Measur- 
ing the distance, I found it two hundred and four paces. 
When I stood by liis side, the anteloDc turned his expiring 



THE WAR PARTIES. V4'S 

eye upward. It was like a beautiful woman s, dark and 
bright. " Fortunate that I am in a hurry," tliought I ; " J 
might be troubled with remorse, if I had time for it." 

Cutting the animal up, not in the most skilful manner, 
I hung the meat at the back of my saddle, and rode on 
again. The hills (I could not remember one of them) 
closed around me. " It is too late," thought I, " to go 
forward. I will stay here to-night, and look for the path 
in the morning," As a last effort, however, I ascended a 
high hill, from which, to my great satisfaction, I could see 
Laramie Creek stretching before me, twisting from side to 
side amid ragged patches of timber ; and far off, close 
beneath the shadows of the trees, the ruins of the old 
trading-fort were visible. I reached them at twilight. It 
was far from pleasant, in that uncertain light, to be push- 
ing through the dense trees and bushes of the grove 
beyond. I listened anxiously for the foot-fall of man 
or beast. Nothing was stirring but one harmless brown 
bird, cliirping among the branches. I was glad when I 
gained the open prairie once more, where I could see if 
any thing approached. When I came to the mouth of 
Chugwater, it was totally dark. Slackening the reins, I 
let my horse take his own course. He trotted on with 
unerring instinct, and by nine o'clock was scrambling 
down the steep descent into the meadows where we were 
encamped. While I was looking in vain for the light of 
the fire, Hendrick, with keener perceptions, gave a loud 
neigh, which was immediately answered by another neigh 
from the distance. In a moment I was hailed from the 
darkness by the voice of Reynal, who had come out, rifle 
in hand, to see who was approaching. 

He, with his squaw, the two Canadians and the Indian 
boys, were the sole inmates of the camp, Shaw and Henry 
Chatillon being still absent At noon of the following 



134 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

day they came back, their horses looking none the bett^ei 
for the journey. Henry seemed dejected. The woman 
was dead, and his children must henceforward be exposed, 
without a protector, to the hardships and vicissitudes of 
Indian life. Even in the midst of his grief he had not 
forgotten his attachment to his bourgeois^ for he had pro 
cured among his Indian relatives two beautifully orna 
mented buffalo-robes, which he spread on the ground as a 
present to us. 

Shaw lighted his pipe, and told me in a few words the 
history of his journey. When I went to the fort they 
left me, as I mentioned, at the mouth of Chugwater. 
They followed the course of the little stream all day, 
traversing a desolate and barren country. Several times 
they came upon the fresh traces of a large war-party, the 
same, no doubt, from whom we had so narrowly escaped 
an attack. At an hour before sunset, without encounter 
big a human being by the way, they came upon the lodges 
of the squaw and her brothers, who, in comi)liance with 
Henry's message, had left the Indian village, in order to 
ioin us at our camp. The lodges were already pitched, 
five in number, by the side of the stream. The woman 
lay in one of them, reduced to a mere skeleton. Foi 
some time she had been unable to move or speak. 
Indeed, nothing had kept her alive but the hope of see 
ing Henry, to whom she was strongly and faithfully 
attached. No sooner did he enter the lodge than she 
revived, and conversed with him the greater part of the 
night. Early in the morning she was lifted into a trai- 
neau, and the whole party set out towards our camp. 
There were but five warriors ; the rest were women and 
children. The whole were in great alarm at the prox- 
imity of the Crow war-party, who would certainly have 
killed them without mercy had they met. They had 



THE WAR PARTIES. 135 

advanced only a mile or two, when they discerned a 
horseman, far off, on the edge of the horizon. They all 
stopped, gathering together in the greatest anxiety, from 
which they did not recover until long after the horseman 
disappeared ; then they set out again. Henry was riding 
with Shaw a few rods in advance of the Indians, when 
Mahto-Tatonka, a younger brother of the woman, hastily 
called after them. Turning back, they found all the In- 
dians crowded around the traineau in which the woman 
was lying. They reached her just in time to hear the 
death-rattle in her throat. In a moment she lay dead in 
tlie basket of the vehicle. A complete stillness suc- 
ceeded ; then the Indians raised in concert their cries of 
lamentation over the corpse, and among them Shaw 
clearly distinguished those strange sounds resembling the 
word " Halleiuyah," which, together with some other acci- 
dental coincidences, has given rise to the absurd notion 
that the Indians are descended from the ten lost tribes of 
Israel. 

The Indian usage required that Henry, as well as the 
other relatives of the woman, should make valuable pres- 
ents, to be placed by the side of the body at its last rest- 
ing-place. Leaving the Indians, he and Shaw set out for 
the camp, and reached it, as we have seen, by hard push- 
ing, at about noon. Having obtained the necessary 
articles, they immediately returned. It was very late 
and quite dark when they again reached the lodges. 
They were all placed in a deep hollow among dreary 
hills. Four of them were just visible through the gloom, 
but the fifth and largest was illumined by the blaze of 
a fire within, glowing through the half-transparent cover- 
ing of raw hides. There was a perfect stiUness as they 
approached. The lodges seemed without a tenant. Not 
a living thing was stirring ; there was something awluj 



136 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

in the scene. They rode up to the entrance of the lodge, 
and there was no sound but the tramp of theh horses. 
A squaw came out and took charge of the animals, with- 
out speaking a word. Entering, they found the lodge 
crowded with Indians ; a fire was burning in the midst, 
and the mourners encircled it in a triple row. Room was 
made for the new-comers at the head of the lodge, a robe 
spread for them to sit upon, and a pipe lighted and handed 
to them in perfect silence. Thus they passed the greater 
part of the night. At times the fire would subside into a 
heap of embers, until the dark figures seated around it 
were scarcely visible ; then a squaw would drop upon it a 
piece of buffalo-fat, and a bright flame instantly spring- 
ing up, would reveal the crowd of wild faces, motionless 
as bronze. The silence continued unbroken. It was a 
relief to Shaw when daylight returned and he could es- 
cape from this house of mourning. He and Henry pre- 
pared to return homeward ; first, however, they placed 
the presents they had brought near the body of the 
squaw, which, gaudily attired, remained in a sitting pos- 
ture in one of the lodges. A fine horse was picketed not 
far off, destined to be killed that morning for the service 
of her spirit ; for the woman was lame, and could not 
travel on foot over the dismal prairies to the villages of 
the dead. Food, too, was provided, and household imple- 
ments, for her use upon this last journey. 

Henry left her to the care of her relatives, and came 
immediately with Shaw to the camp. It was some time 
before he entirely recovered from his dejection . 



CHAPTER XI. 

SCENES AT THE CAMP. 

D EYNAL heard guns fired one day, at the distance oi 
-'-^ a mile or two from the camp. He grew nervous 
instantly. Visions of Crow war-parties began to haunt 
his imagination ; and when we returned (for we were all 
absent), he renewed his complaints about being left alone 
with the Canadians and the squaw. The day after, the 
^ause of the alarm appeared. Four trappers, called 
Morin, Saraphiu, Rouleau, and Gingras, came to our 
camp and joined us. They it was who fired the guns and 
disturbed the dreams of our confederate Reynal. They 
soon encamped by our side. Their rifles, dingy and bat- 
tered with hard service, rested with ours against the old 
tree ; their strong rude saddles, their buffalo-robes, their 
traps, and the few rough and simple articles of their travel- 
ling equipment were piled near our tent. Their mountain- 
horses were turned to graze in the meadow among our 
own ; and the men themselves, no less rough and hardy, 
used to lie half the day in the shade of our tree, lolling 
on the grass, lazily smoking, and telling stories of their 
adventures ; and I defy the annals of chivalry to furnish 
the record of a life more wild and perilous than that of a 
Rocky Mountain trapper. 

With this efficient reinforcement the agitation of Rey- 
aal's nerves subsided. We began to conceive a sort of 
attachment to our old camping ground ; yet it was time 



138 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

to change our quarters, since remaining too long on one 
spot must lead to unpleasant results, not to be borne 
unless in case of dire necessity. The grass no longer 
presented a smooth surface of turf; it was trampled into 
mud and clay. So we removed to another old tree, largei 
yet, that grew by the side of the river a furlong distant. 
Its trunk was full six feet in diameter ; oij one side it was 
marked by a party of Indians with various inexplicable 
hieroglyphics, commemorating some warlike enterprise, 
and aloft among the branches were the remains of a 
scaffold, where dead bodies had once been deposited, after 
the Indian manner. 

" There comes Bull-Bear," said Henry Chatillon, as we 
sat on the grass at dinner. Looking up, we saw several 
horsemen coming over the neighboring hill, and in a 
moment four stately young men rode up and dismounted. 
One of them was Bull-Bear, or Mahto-Tatonka, a com 
pound name which he inherited from his father, the prin- 
cipal chief in the Ogillallah band. One of his brothers 
and two other young men accompanied him. We shook 
hands with the visitors, and when we had finished our 
meal — for this is the approved manner of entertaining 
Indians, even the best of them — we handed to each a 
tin cup of coffee and a biscuit, at which they ejaculated 
from the bottom of their throats, " How ! how ! " a mono- 
syllable by which an Indian contrives to express half the 
emotions of which he is susceptible. Then we lighted 
the pipe, and passed it to them as they squatted on the 
ground. 

" Where is the village ? " 

"There," said Mahto-Tatonka, pointing southward; 
** it will come in two days." 

" Will they go to the war ? " 

" Yes." 



SCENES AT THE CAMP. 139 

No man is a philanthropist on the prairie. We wel 
corned this news cordially, and congratulated ourselves 
that Bordeaux's interested efforts to divert The Whirlwind 
From his congenial vocation of bloodshed had failed of 
success, and that no further obstacles would interpose 
between us, and our plan of repairing to the rendezvous 
at La Bonte's camp. 

For that and several succeeding days, Mahto-Tatonka 
and his friends remained our guests. They devoured 
the relics of our meals ; they filled the pipe for us, and 
also helped us to smoke it. Sometimes they stretched 
themselves side by side in the shade, indulging in railery 
and equivocal jokes, ill becoming the dignity of brave and 
aspiring warriors, such as two of them in reality were. 

Two days dragged away, and on the morning of the 
third we hoped confidently to see the Indian village. It 
did not come ; so we rode out to look for it. In place of 
the eight hundred Indians we expected, we met one soli- 
tary savage riding towards us over the prairie, who told 
us that the Indians had changed their plan, and would 
not come within three days. Taking along with us this 
messenger of evil tidings, we retraced our footsteps to 
the camp, amusing ourselves by the way with execrating 
Indian inconstancy. When we came in sight of our little 
white tent under the big tree, we saw that it no longer 
stood alone. A huge old lodge was erected by its side, 
discolored by rain and storms, rotten with age, with the 
uncouth figures of horses and men and outstretched hands 
that were painted upon it, well nigh obliterated. The 
long poles which supported this squalid habitation thrust 
themselves rakishly out from its pointed top, and over its 
entrance were suspended a " medicine-pipe" and various 
other implements of the magic art. While we were yet 
at a distance, we observed a greatly increased population 



140 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

ot various colors and dimensions, swarming about oui 
quiet encampment. Moiin, the trapper, having been 
absent for a day or two, had returned, it seemed, bringing 
all his family with him. He had taken to himself a wife, 
for whom he had paid the established price of one horse. 
This looks cheap at first sight, but in truth the purchase 
of a squaw is a transaction which no man should entei 
into without mature deliberation, since it involves not 
only the payment of the price, but the burden of feeding 
and supporting a rapacious horde of the bride's relatives, 
who hold themselves entitled to feed upon the indiscreet 
white man. They gather about him like leeches, and 
drain him of all he has. 

Morin had not made an aristocratic match. His bride's 
relatives occupied but a contemptible position in Ogillallah 
society ; for among these democrats of the prairie, as 
among others more civilized, there are virtual distinctions 
of rank and place. Morin' s partner was not the most 
beautiful of her sex, and he had the bad taste to array her 
in an old calico gown, bought from an emigrant woman, 
instead of the neat tunic of whitened deer-skin usually 
worn by the squaws. The moving spirit of the estab- 
lishment was an old hag of eighty. Human imagination 
never conceived hobgoblin or witch more ugly than she. 
You could count all her ribs through the wrinkles of her 
leathery skin. Her withered face more resembled an old 
skull than the countenance of a living being, even to the 
hollow, darkened sockets, at the bottom of which glittered 
her little black eyes. Her arms had dwindled into noth- 
ing but whip-cord and wire. Her hair, half black, half 
gray, hung in total neglect nearly to the ground, and her 
sole garment consisted of the remnant of a discarded 
buffalo-robe tied round her waist with a string of hide. 
Yet the old squaw's meagre anatomy was wonderfully 



SCENES AT THE CAMP. 141 

strong. She pitched the lodge, packed the horses, and 
did the hardest labor^ of the camp. From morning till 
night she bustled about the lodge, screaming like a screech- 
owl when any thing displeased her. Her brother, a " med- 
icine-man," or magician, was equally gaunt and sinewy 
with herself. His mouth spread from ear to ear, and his 
appetite, as w^e had occasion to learn, was ravenous in 
[)roportion. The other inmates of the lodge were a young 
bride and bridegroom , the latter one of those idle, good- 
for-nothing fellows who infest an Indian village as w ell as 
more civilized communities. He was fit neither for hunt- 
ing nor war, as one might see from the stolid unmeaning 
expression of his face. Tlie happy pair had just entered 
upon the honeymoon. They would stretch a buffalo-robe 
upon poles, to protect them from the rays of the sun, and 
spreading under it a couch of furs, would sit affectionately 
side by side for half the day, though I could not discover 
that much conversation passed between them. Probably 
they had nothing to say ; for an Indian's supply of topics 
for conversation is far from being copious. There were 
half a dozen children, too, playing and whooping about 
the camp, shooting birds with little bows and arrows, or 
making miniature lodges of sticks, as children of a dif- 
ferent complexion build houses of blocks. 

A day passed, and Indians began rapidly to come in. 
Parties of two, three, or more would ride up and silently 
seat themselves on the grass. The fourth day came at 
last, when about noon horsemen appeared in view on the 
summit of the neighboring ridge. Behind followed a wild 
procession, hurrying in haste and disorder down the hill 
and over the plain below ; horses, mules, and dogs ; heav- 
ily-burdened traineaux, mounted warriors, squaws walking 
amid the throng, and a host of children. For a full half- 
hour they continued to pour down ; and keeping directlj 



142 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

to the bend of the stream, within a furlong of us. thej 
soon assembled there, a dark and confused throng, until, 
as if by magic, a hundred and fifty tall lodges sprang up. 
The lonely plain was transformed into the site of a swarm- 
ing encampment. Countless horses were soon grazing 
over the meadows around us, and the prairie was 
animated by restless figures careering on horseback, oi- 
sedately stalking in their long white robes. The Whirl- 
wind was come at last. One question yet remained to be 
answered : " Will he go to the war in order that we, with 
so respectable an escort, may pass over to the somewhat 
perilous rendezvous at La Bont^'s camp ? " 

This still remained in doubt. Characteristic indecision 
perplexed their councils. Indians cannot act in large 
bodies. Though their object be of the highest impor- 
tance, they cannot combine to attain it by a series of con 
nected elforts. King Philip, Pontiac, and Tecumseh, all 
felt this to their cost. The Ogillallah once had a war- 
chief who could control them ; but he was dead, and now 
they were left to the sway of their own unsteady im- 
pulses. 

As this Indian village and its inhabitants will hold a 
prominent place in the rest of the story, perhaps it may 
not be amiss to glance for an instant at the savage people 
of which they form a part. The Dahcotah or Sioux range 
over a vast territory, from the river St. Peter to the Rocky 
Mountains. They are divided into several independent 
bands, united under no central government, and acknowl- 
edging no common head. The same language, usages, and 
superstitions form the sole bond between them. They 
do not unite even in their wars. The bands of the east 
fight the Objibwas on the Upper Lakes ; those of the west 
make incessant war upon the Snake Indians in the Rocky 
Mountains. As the whole people is divided into bands, 



SCENES AT THE CAMP. 143 

SO each band is divided into villages. Each village has a 
chief, who is honored and obeyed only so far as his pei 
sonal qualities may command respect and fear. Some- 
times he is a mere nominal chief ; sometimes his authority 
is little short of absolute, and his fame and influence reach 
beyond his own village, so that the whole band to which 
he belongs is ready to acknowledge him as their head 
This was, a few years since, the case with the Ogillallah. 
Courage, address, and enterprise may raise any warrior 
to the highest honor, especially if he be the son of a for- 
mer chief, or a member of a numerous family, to support 
him and avenge his quarrels ; but when he has reached 
the dignity of chief, and the old men and warriors, by a 
peculiar ceremony, have formally installed him, let it not 
be imagined that he assumes any of the outward signs of 
rank and honor. He knows too well on how frail a tenure 
he holds his station. He must conciliate his uncertain 
subjects. Many a man in the village lives better, owns 
more squaws and more horses, and goes better clad than 
he. Like the Teutonic chiefs of old, he ingratiates him- 
self with his young men by making them presents, there 
by often impoverishing himself. If he fails to gain their 
favor, they will set his authority at naught, and may 
desert him at any moment ; for the usages of his people 
have provided no means of enforcing his authority. Very 
seldom does it happen, at least among these western bands, 
that a chief attains to much power, unless he is the head 
of a numerous family. Frequently the village is princi- 
pally made up of his islatives and descendants, and the 
wandering community assumes much of the patriarchal 
character. 

The western Dahcotah have no fixed habitations. 
Hunting and fighting, they wander incessantly, through 
summer and winter. Some follow the herds of buffalo 



144 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

over the waste of prairie ; others traverse the Black Hills, 
thronging, on horseback and on foot, through the dark 
gulfs and sombre -gorges, and emerging at last upon the 
"Parks," those beautiful but most perilous hunting 
grounds. The buffalo supplies them with the necessaries 
of life ; with habitations, food, clothing, beds, and fuel ; 
strings for their bows, glue, thread, cordage, trail-ropes 
for their horses, coverings for their saddles, vessels to 
hold water, boats to cross streams, and the means of pur- 
chasing all that they want from the traders. When the 
buffalo are extinct, they too must dwindle away. 

War is the breath of their nostrils. Against most of 
the neighboring tribes they cherish a rancorous hatred, 
transmitted from father to son, and inflamed by constant 
aggression and retaliation. Many times a year, in every 
village, the Great Spirit is called upon, fasts are made, 
the war-parade is celebrated, and the warriors go out by 
handfuls at a time against the enemy. This fierce spirit 
awakens their most eager aspirations, and calls forth their 
greatest energies. It is chiefly this that saves them from 
lethargy and utter abasement. Without its powerful 
stimulus they would Ik3 like the unwarlike tribes beyond 
the mountains, scattered among the caves and rocks like 
beasts, and living on roots and reptiles. These latter 
have little of humanity except the form ; but the proud 
and ambitious Dahcotah warrior can sometimes boast 
heroic virtues. It is seldom that distinction and influence 
are attained among them by any other course than that 
of arms. Their superstition, however, sometimes gives 
great power to those among them who pretend to the 
character of magicians ; and their orators, such as they 
are, have their share of honor. 

But to return. Look into our tent, or enter, if you can 
bear the stifling smoke and the close air. There, wedded 



SCENES AT THE CAMP. 145 

close together, you will see a circle of stout warriors, 
passing the pipe around, joking, telling stories, and mak- 
ing themselves merry after their fashion. We were also 
infested by little copper-colored naked boys and snake- 
eyed girls. They would come up to us, muttering certain 
words, which being interpreted conveyed the concise in- 
vitation, " Come and eat." Then we would rise, cursing 
the pertinacity of Dahcotah hospitality, which allowed 
scarcely an hour of rest between sun and sun, and to 
which we were bound to do honor, unless we would offend 
our entertainers. This necessity was particularly bur- 
densome to me, as I was scarcely able to walk, from the 
effects of illness, and was poorly qualified to dispose of 
twenty meals a day. So bounteous an entertainment 
looks like an outgushing of good-will ; but, doubtless, 
half at least of our kind hosts, had they met us alone and 
unarmed on the prairie, would have robbed us of our 
horses, and perhaps have bestowed an arrow upon us 
besides. 

One morning we were summoned to the lodge of an 
old man, the Nestor of his tribe. We found him half 
sitting, half reclining, on a pile of buffalo-robes ; his long 
hair, jet-black, though he had seen some eighty winters, 
hung on either side of his thin features. His gaunt but 
symmetrical frame did not more clearly exhibit the wreck 
of by-gone strength, than did his dark, wasted features, 
still prominent and commanding, bear the stamp of men- 
tal energies. Opposite the patriarch was his nephew, the 
young aspirant Mahto-Tatonka ; and besides these, there 
were one or two women in the lodge. 

The old man's story is peculiar, and illustrative of u 
superstition that prevails in full force among many of the 
Indian tribes. He was one of a powerful family, re- 
uowned for warlike exploits. When a very young man 

10 



146 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

he submitted to the singular rite to which most of tiie 
tribe subject themselves before entering upon life. He 
painted his face black ; then seeking out a cavern in n 
sequestered part of the Black Hills, he lay for several 
days, fasting, and praying to the spirits. In the dreanis 
and visions produced by his weakened and excited state, 
he fancied, like all Indians, that he saw supernatura 
revelations. Again and again the form of an antelopn 
appeared before him. The antelope is the graceful peace 
spirit of the Ogillallah ; but seldom is it that such a gentle 
visitor presents itself during the initiatory fasts of their 
young men. The terrible grizzly bear, the divinity of 
war, usually appears to fire them with martial ardor and 
thirst for renown. At length the antelope spoke. It 
told the young dreamer that he was not to follow the 
path of war ; that a life of peace and tranquillity was 
marked out for him ; that thenceforward he was to guide 
the people by his counsels, and })rotect them from the 
evils of their own feuds and dissensions. Others were to 
gain renown by fighthig the enemy ; but greatness of a 
different kind was in store for him. 

The visions beheld during the period of this fast usually 
determine the whole course of the dreamer's life. From 
that time, Le Borgne, which was the only name by which 
W3 knew him, abandoned all thoughts of war, and devoted 
himself to the labors of peace. He told his vision to the 
people. They honored his commission and respected him 
in his novel capacity. 

A far different man was his brother, Mahto-Tatonka. 
who had left his name, his features, and many of his qual 
ities, to his son. He was the father of Henry Chatillon's 
squaw, a circumstance which proved of some advantage 
to us, as it secured the friendship of a family })erhaps the 
most noted and influential in the whole Ogillallali baud 



SCENES AT THE CAMP. 147 

Mahto-Tatonka, in his way, was a hero. No chief could 
vie with him in warlike renown, or in power over his 
people. He had a fearless spirit, and an impetuous and in- 
flexible resolution. His will was law. He was politic and 
sagacious, and with true Indian craft, always befriended 
the whites, knowing that he might thus reap great ad- 
vantages for himself and his adherents. "When he had 
resolved on any course of conduct, he would pay to the war- 
riors the compliment of calling them together to deliberate 
upon it, and when their debates were over, quietly state his 
own opinion, whicli no one ever disputed. It fared hard 
with those who incurred his displeasure. He would strike 
them or stab them on the spot ; and this act, which if at- 
tempted by any other chief would have cost him his life, 
the awe inspired by his name enabled him to repeat again 
and again with impunity. In a community where, from 
immemorial time, no man has acknowledged any law but 
his own will, Mahto-Tatonka raised himself to power 
little short of despotic. His career came at last to an 
end. He had a host of enemies patiently biding their 
time ; and our old friend Smoke in particular, together 
with all his kinsmen, hated him cordially. Smoke sat 
one day in his lodge, in the midst of his own village, when 
Malito-Tatonka entered it alone, and approaching the 
dwelling of his enemy, challenged him in a loud voice to 
come out, and fight. Smoke would not move. At this, 
Mahto-Tatonka proclaimed him a coward and an old 
woman, and, striding to the entrance of the lodge, stabbed 
the chief's best horse, which was picketed there. Smoke 
was daunted, and even this insult failed to bring Lim out. 
Mahto-Tatonka moved haughtily away ; all made way for 
him ; but his hour of reckoning was near. 

One liot day, five or six years ago, numerous lodges of 
Smoke's kinsmen were gathered about some of the Fu7 



148 THE OREGON TRAIL 

Company's men, who were trading in various articles with 
them, whiskey among the rest. Mahto-Tatonka was also 
there with a few of his people. As he lay in his own 
lodge, a fray arose between his adherents and the kins 
men of his enemy. The war-whoop was raised, bullets 
and arrows began to fly, and the camp was in confusion. 
The chief sprang up, and rushing in a fury from the ledge 
shouted to the combatants on both sides to cease. In- 
stantly — for tlie attack was preconcerted — came the re- 
ports of two or three guns, and the twanging of a dozen 
bows, and the savage hero, mortally wounded, pitched 
forward headlong to the ground. Rouleau was present, 
and told me the particulars. The tumult became general, 
and was not quelled until several had fallen on both sides. 
When we were in the country the feud between the two 
families was still rankling. 

Thus died Mahto-Tatonka ; but he left behind him a 
goodly army of descendants, to perpetuate his renown and 
avenge his fate. Besides daughters, he had thirty sons, 
a number which need not stagger the credulity of those 
acquainted with Indian usages and practices. We saw 
many of them, all marked by the same dark complexion, 
and the same peculiar cast of features. Of these, our 
visitor, young Mahto-Tatonka, was the eldest, and some 
reported him as likely to succeed to his father's honors. 
Though he appeared not more than twenty-one years old, 
he had oftener struck the enemy, and stolen more horses 
and more squaws, than any young man in the village. 
Horse-stealing is well known as an avenue to distinction 
on the prairies, and the other kind of depredation is es- 
teemed equally meritorious. Not that the act can confer 
fame from its own intrinsic merits. Any one can steal a 
squaw, and if he chooses afterwards to make an adequate 
present to her rightful proprietor, the easy husband for 



SCENES AT THE CAMP. 149 

the most part rests content, his vengeance falls asleep, 
and all danger from that quarter is averted. Yet th s is 
regarded as a pitiful and mean-spirited transaction. The 
Janger is averted, but the glory of the achievement also 
is lost. Mahto-Tatonka proceeded after a more dashing 
fashion. Out of several dozen squaws wliom he had stolen, 
he could boast that he had never i)aid for one, but snap- 
ping his fingers in the face of th& injured husband, had 
defied the extremity of his indignation, and no one yet 
had dared to lay the finger of violence upon him. He was 
following close in the footsteps of his father. The young 
men and the young squaws, each in their way, admired him. 
The former would always follow him to war, and he was 
esteemed to have an unrivalled charm in the eyes of the 
latter. Perhaps his impunity may excite some wonder. 
An arrow shot from a ravine, or a stab given in the dark, 
require no great valor, and are especially suited to the 
Indian genius ; but Mahto-Tatonka had a strong protec- 
tion. It was not alone his courage and audacious will 
that enabled him to career so dashingly among his com- 
peers. His enemies did not forget that he was one of 
thirty warlike brethren, all growing up to manhood. 
Should they wreak their anger upon him, many keen eyes 
would be ever upon them, and many fierce hearts thirst 
for their blood. The avenger would dog their footsteps 
everywhere. To kill Mahto-Tatonka would be an act of 
suicide. 

Though he found such favor in the eyes of the fair, he 
was no dandy. He was indifferent to the gaudy trappings 
and ornaments of his companions, and was content to rest 
his chances of success upon his own warlike merits. He 
never arrayed himself in gaudy blanket and glittering 
necklaces, but left his statue-like form, limbed like ao 
Apollo of bronze, to win its way to favor. His voice was 



L50 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

Bingularly deep and strong, and sounded from Lis chest 
like the deep notes of an organ. Yet after all, he was 
but an Indian. See him as he lies there in the sun before 
our tent, kicking his heels in the air and cracking jokes 
with his brother. Does he look like a hero ? See him 
now in the hour of his glory, when at sunset the whole 
village empties itself to behold him, for to-morrow their 
favorite young partisan' goes out against the enemy. Ilis 
head-dress is adorned with a crest of the war-eagle's 
feathers, rising in a waving ridge above his brow, and 
sweeping far behind him. His round white shield hangs 
at his breast, with feathers radiating from the centre like 
a star. His quiver is at his back ; his tall lance in his 
hand, the iron point flashing against the declining sun, 
while the long scalp-locks of his enemies flutter from the 
shaft. Thus, gorgeous as a champion in panoply, he rides 
round and round within the great circle of lodges, balanc- 
ing with a graceful buoyancy to the free movements of his 
war-horse, while with a sedate brow he shigs his song to 
the Great Spirit. Young rival warriors look askance at 
him ; vermilion-cheeked girls gaze in admiration ; boys 
whoop and scream in a thrill of delight, and old women 
yell forth his name and proclaim his praises from lodge 
to lodge. 

Mahto-Tatonka was the best of all our Indian friends. 
Hour after hour, and day after day, when swarms of sav- 
ages of every age, sex, and degree beset our camp, h€ 
would lie in our tent, his lynx-eye ever open to guard oui 
property from pillage. 

The Whirlwind invited us one day to his lodge. The 
feast was finished and the pipe began to circulate. It 
was a remarkably large and fine one, and I expressed 
admiration of it. 

" If the Meneaska likes the pipe," asked The Whirlwind, 
" why does he not keep it ? " 



SCENES AT THE CAMP. 151 

Such a pipe among the Ogillallah is valued at the price 
of a horse. The gift seemed worthy of a chieftain and a 
warrior ; but The Whirlwind's generosity rose to no such 
pitch. He gave me the pipe, confidently expecting that 
[ in return would make him a present of equal or supe- 
rior value. This is the implied condition of every gift 
among the Lidians, and should it not be complied with, 
the present is usually reclaimed. So I arranged upon a 
gaudy calico handkerchief an assortment of vermilion, 
tobacco, knives, and gunpowder, and summoning the 
chief to camp, assured him of my friendship, and begged 
his acceptance of a slight token of it. Ejaculating 
How ! hoiv ! he folded up the offerings and withdrew to 
his lodge. 

Late one afternoon a party of Indians on horseback 
came suddenly in sight from behind some clumps of 
bushes that lined the bank of the stream, leading with 
them a mule, on whose back was a wretched negro, sus- 
tained in his seat by the high pommel and cantle of the 
Indian saddle. His cheeks were shrunken in the hollow 
of his jaws ; his eyes were unnaturally dilated, and his 
lips shrivelled and drawn back from his teeth like those 
of a corpse. When they brought him before our tent, 
and lifted him from the saddle, he could not walk or 
stand, but crawled a short distance, and with a look of 
utter misery sat down on the grass. All the children 
and women came pouring out of the lodges, and with 
screams and cries made a circle about him, while he sat 
supporting himself with his hands, and looking from side 
to side with a vacant stare. The wretch was starving to 
death. For thirty-three days he had wandered alone on 
the prairie, without weapon of any kind ; without shoes, 
moccasins, or any other clothing than an old jacket and 
trousers ; without intelligence to guide his course, or an^ 



152 THE OREGON TRAIL 

knowledge of the productions of the prairie. All thia 
time he had subsisted on crickets and lizards, . wild 
onions, and three eggs which he found in the nest of a 
prairie-dove. He had not seen a human being. Be- 
wildered in the boundless, hopeless desert that stretched 
around him, he had walked on in despair, till he could 
walk no longer, and then crawled on his knees, till the 
bone was laid bare. He chose the night for travelling, 
lying down by day to sleep in the glaring sun, always 
dreaming, as he said, of the broth and corn-cake he used 
to eat under his old master's shed in Missouri. Every 
man in the camp, both white and red, was astonished at 
his escape not only from starvation but from the grizzly 
bears, which abound in that neighborhood, and the wolves 
which howled around him every night. 

Reynal recognized him the moment the Indians brought 
him in. He had run away from his master about a year 
before and joined the party of Richard, who was then 
leaving the frontier for the mountains. He had lived 
with Richard until, at the end of May, he with Reynal 
and several other men went out in search of some stray 
horses, when he was separated from the rest in a storm, 
and had never been heard of to this time. Knowing his 
inexperience and helplessness, no one dreamed that he 
could still be living. The Indians had found him lying 
exhausted on tne ground. 

As he sat there, with the Indians gazing silently on 
him, his haggard face and glazed eye were disgusting to 
look upon. Deslauriers made him a bowl of gruel, but 
he suffered it to remain untasted before him. At length 
he languidly raised the spoon to his lips ; again he did 
60, and again ; and then his appetite seemed suddenly 
inflamed into madness, for he seized the bowl, swallowed 
all its contents in a few seconds, and eagerly demanded 



SCENES AT THE CAMP. 153 

meat. This we refused, telling him to wait until morn- 
ing ; but he begged so eagerly that we gave him a small 
piece, which he devoured, tearing it like a dog. He saitl 
he must have more. We told him that his life was in 
danger if he ate so immoderately at first. He assented, 
and said he knew he was a fool to do so, but he must 
have meat. This we absolutely refused, to the great 
indignation of the senseless squaws, who, when we were 
not watching him, would slyly bring dried meat and 
pommes blanches, and place them on the ground by his 
side Still this was not enough for him. When it grew 
dark he contrived to creep away between the legs of the 
horses and crawl over to the Indian camp. Here he fed 
to his heart's content, and was brought back again in the 
morning, when Gingras, the trapper, put him on horse- 
back and carried him to the fort. He managed to 
survive the effects of his greediness. Though slightly 
deranged when we left this part of the country, he was 
otherwise in tolerable health, and expressed his firm con- 
viction that nothing could ever kill him. 

When the sun was yet an hour high, it was a gay 
scene in the village. The warriors stalked sedately 
among the lodges, or along the margin of the stream, or 
walked out to visit the bands of horses that were feeding 
over the prairie. Half the population deserted the close 
and heated lodges and betook themselves to the water ; 
and here you might see boys and girls, and young squaws, 
splashing, swimming, and diving, beneath the afternoon 
sun, with merry screams and laughter. But when the 
sun was resting above the broken peaks, and the purple 
mountains threw their shadows for miles over the prairie ; 
when our old tree basked peacefully in the horizontal 
rays, and the swelling plains and scattered groves were 
softened into a tranquil beauty , — then the scene around 



154 THE OREGON TRAIi.. 

our tent was worthy of a Salvator. Savage figures, with 
quivers at their backs, and guns, lances, or toniahawks 
in their hands, sat on horseback, motionless as statues, 
their arms crossed on their breasts and their eyes fixed 
in a steady unwavering gaze upon us. Others stood 
erect, wrapped from head to foot in their long white 
robes of buifalo-hide. Others sat together on the grass, 
holding their shaggy horses by a rope, with their dark 
busts exposed to view as they suffered their robes to fall 
from their shoulders. Others again stood carelessly among 
the throng, with nothing to conceal the matchless symme- 
try of their forms. There was one in particular, a fero- 
cious fellow, named The Mad Wolf, who, with the bow in 
his hand and the quiver at his back, might have seemed, 
but for his face, the Pythian Apollo himself. Such a 
figure rose before the imagination of West, when on first 
seeing the Belvedere in the Vatican, he exclaimed, " By 
God, a Mohawk ! " 

When the prairie grew dark, the horses were driven in 
and secured near the camp, and the crowd began to melt 
away. Fires gleamed around, duskily revealing the rough 
trappers and the graceful Indians. One of the families 
near us was always gathered about a bright fire that 
lighted up the interior of their lodge. Withered, witch- 
like hags flitted around the blaze ; and here for hour after 
hour sat a circle of children and young girls, laughing 
and talking, their round merry faces glowing in the ruddy 
light. We could hear tlie monotonous notes of the drum 
from the Indian camp, with the chant of the war-song, 
deadened in the distance, and the long chorus of quaver- 
ing yells, where the war-dance was going on in the 
largest lodge. For several nights, too, we heard wild and 
mournful cries, rising and dying away like the melan- 
choly voice of a wolf. They came from the sisters and 



SCENES AT THE CAMP. 155 

female relatives of Malito-Tatonka, who were gashing 
their limbs with knives, and bewailing the death ot 
Heniy Chatillon's squaw. The hour would grow late 
before all went to rest in our camp. Then, while the 
embers of the tires glowed dimly, the men lay stretched 
in their blankets on the ground, and nothing could he 
lieard but the restless motions of the crowded horses. 

I recall these scenes with a mixed feeling of pleasure 
and pain. At this time, I was so reduced by illness that 
I could seldom walk without reeling like a drunken man, 
and when I rose from mj seat upon the ground the land- 
scape suddenly grew dim before my eyes, the trees and 
lodges seemed to sway to and fro, and the prairie to rise 
and fall like the swells of the ocean. Such a state of 
things is not enviable anywhere. In a country where a 
man's life may at any moment depend on the strength of 
his arm, or it may be on the acti^ ity of his legs, it is 
more particularly inconvenient. Noj is sleeping on damp 
ground, with an occasional drenching from a shower, very 
beneficial in such cases. I sometimes suffered the ex- 
tremity of exhaustion, and was in a tolerably fair way 
of atoning for my love of the prairie, by resting there 
for ever. 

I tried repose and a very sparing diet. For a long 
time, with exemplary patience, 1 lounged about the camp, 
or at the utmost staggered over to the Indian village, and 
walked faint and dizzy among the lodges. It would not 
<lo ; and I bethought me of starvation. During five days 
r sustained life on one small biscuit a day. At the end 
of that time I was weaker than before, but the disorder 
seemed shaken in its stronghold, and very gradually 1 
began to resume a less rigid diet. 

I used to lie languid and dreamy before our tent, mus- 
ing on th'j past and the future, and when most overcome 



156 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

with lassitude, my eyes turned always towards the distant 
Black Hills. Tliere is a spirit of energy in mountains, 
and they impart it to all who approach them. At that 
time I did not know how many dark superstitions and 
gloomy legends are associated with the Black Hills in the 
minds of the Indians, but I felt an eager desire to pene- 
trate their hidden recesses, and explore the chasms 
and precipices, black torrents and silent foi'ests that 7 
fancied were concealed there. 



CHAPTER Xn 

ILL-LUCK. 

A CANADIAN came from Fort Laramie, and brought 
•^"^ a curious piece of intelligence. A trapper, fresh 
from the mountains, had become enamoured of a Missouri 
damsel belonging to a family who with other emigrants 
had been for some days encamped in the neighborhood of 
the fort. If bravery be the most potent charm to win the 
favor of the fair, then no wooer could be more irresistible 
than a Rocky Mountain trapper. In the present instance, 
the suit was not urged in vain. The lovers concerted a 
scheme, which they proceeded to carry into effect with all 
possible despatch. The emigrant party left the fort, and 
on the next night but one encamped as usual, and placed 
a guard. A little after midnight, the enamoured trapper 
drew near, mounted on a strong horse, and leading an- 
other by the bridle.^ Fastening both animals to a tree, he 
stealthily moved towards the wagons, as if he were ap- 
proaching a band of buffalo. Eluding the vigilance of the 
guard, who were probably half asleep, he met his mistress 
by appointment at the outskirts of the camp, mounted 
her on his spare horse, and made off with her through 
the darkness. The sequel of the adventure did not reach 
our ears, and we never learned how the imprudent fair 
one liked an Indian lodge for a dwelling, and a reckless 
trapper for a bridegroom. 

At length The Whirlwind and his warriors determined 



158 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

to move. They had resolved after all their preparations 
not to go to the rendezvous at La Bontif^'s camp, but to 
pass through the Black Hills and spend a few weeks in 
hunting the buffalo on the other side, until they had killea 
enough to furnish them with a stock of provisions and 
with hides to make their lodges for the next season. 
This done, they were to send out a small independeni 
war-party against the enemy. Their final determination 
placed us in some embarrassment. Should we go to La 
Bont^'s camp, it was not impossible that the other villages 
would prove as vacillating as The Whirlwind's, and that no 
assembly whatever would take place. Our old companion 
Reynal had conceived a liking for us, or rather for our bis- 
cuit and coffee, and for the occasional small presents which 
we made him. He was very anxious that we should go 
with the village which he himself intended to follow. 
He was certain that no Indians would meet at the rendez- 
vous, and said, moreover, that it would be easy to convey 
our cart and baggage through the Black Hills. He knew, 
however, nothing of the matter. Neither he nor any white 
man with us had ever seen the difficult and obscure defiles 
through which the Indians intended to make their way. 1 
passed them afterwards, and had much ado to force my dis- 
tressed horse along the narrow ravines, and through chasms 
where daylight could scarcely penetrate. Our cart might 
as easily have been driven over the summit of Pike's 
Peak. But of this we were ignorant ; and in view of the 
difficulties and uncertainties of an attempt to visit the 
rendezvous, we recalled the old proverb, about " A bird 
in the hand," and decided to follow the village. 

Both camps, the Indians' and our own, broke up on the 
morning of the first of July. I was so weak that the aid 
of a spoonful of whiskey, swallowed at short intervals, 
alone enabled me to sit my horse through the short jour- 




THE TRAPPER. 



ILL-LUCK. 159 

aey of that day. For half a mile before us and half a 
mile behind, the prairie was covered far and wide with 
the moving throng of savages. The barren, broken plain 
stretched away to the right and left, and far in front rose 
the precipitous ridge of the Black Hills. We pushed 
forward to the head of the scattered column, passing 
burdened traineaux, heavily laden pack-horses, gaunt old 
women on foot, gay young squaws on horseback, restless 
children running among the crowd, old men striding along 
n their white buffalo-robes, and groups of young warriors 
mounted on their best horses. Henry Chatillon, looking 
backward over the distant prairie, exclaimed suddenly 
that a horseman was approaching, and in truth we could 
just discern a small black speck slowly moving over the 
face of a distant swell, like a fly creeping on a wall. It 
rapidly grew larger as it approached. 

" White man, I b'lieve," said Henry ; '' look how he 
ride. Indian never ride that way. Yes ; he got rifle on 
the saddle before him." 

The horseman disappeared in a hollow of the prairie, 
but we soon saw him again, and as he came riding at a 
gallop towards us througli the crowd of Indians, his long 
hair streaming in the wind behind him, we recognized the 
ruddy face and old buckskin frock of Gingras the trapper. 
He w^as just arrived from Fort Laramie, and said he had 
a message for us. A trader named Bisonette, one of 
Henry's friends, had lately come from the settlements, 
and intended to go with a party of men to La Bontd'a 
camp, where, as Gingras assured us, ten or twelve vil- 
lages of Indians would certainly assemble. Bisonette 
desired that we would cross over and meet him there, 
and promised that his men should protect our horses and ^ 
baggage while we went among the Indians. Shaw and I 
stopped our horses, held a council, and in an evil hour 
resolved to go. 



160 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

For the rest of that day our course and that of the 
Indians was the same. In less than an hour we came to 
where the high barren prairie terminated, sinking down 
abruptly in steep descent ; and standing on the verge we 
saw below us a great meadow. Laramie Creek bounded it 
on the left, sweeping along in the shadow of the heights, 
and passing with its shallow and rapid current just beneath 
us. We sat on horseback, waiting and looking on, while 
the whole savage array went pouring by, hurrying down 
the declivity and spreading over the meadow below. In 
a few moments the plain was swarming with the moving 
multitude, some just visible, like specks in the distance, 
others still hastening by and fording the stream in bustle 
and confusion. On the edge of the heights sat a group 
of the elder warriors, gravely smoking and looking with 
unmoved faces on the wild and striking spectacle. 

Up went the lodges in a circle on tlie margin of the 
stream. For the sake of quiet we pitched our tent among 
some trees half a mile distant. In the afternoon we were 
in the village. The day was a glorious one, and the whole 
camp seemed lively and animated in sympathy. Groups 
of children and young girls were laughing gayly outside 
the lodges. The shields, the lances, and the bows were 
removed from the tall tripods on which they usually hung, 
before the dwellings of their owners. The warriors were 
mounting their horses, and one by one riding away over 
the prairie toward the neighboring hills. 

Shaw and I sat on the grass near the lodge of Reynal. 
An old woman, with true Indian hospitality, brought a 
bowl of boiled venison and placed it before us. We 
amused ourselves with watching a few young squaws who 
were playing together and chasing each other in and out 
of one of the lodges. Suddenly the wild yell of the war- 
whoop came pealing from the hills. A crowd of horse- 



ILL-LUCK. i61 

men appeared, rushing down their sides, and ridmg at full 
speed towards the village, each warrior's long hair flying 
behind him in the wind like a ship's streamer. As they 
approached, the confused throng assumed a regular order, 
and entering two by two, they circled round the area at 
full gallop, each warrior singing his war-song as he rode. 
Some of their dresses were superb. They wore crests 
of feathers, and close tunics of antelope skins, fringed 
with the scalp-locks of their enemies ; many of their 
shields, too, fluttered with the war-eagle's feathers. All 
had bows and arrows at their backs ; some carried long 
lances, and a few were armed with guns. The White 
Shield, their partisan, rode in gorgeous attire at their 
head, mounted on a black-and-white horse. Mahto- 
Tatonka and his brothers took no part in this parade, 
for rr'cy were in mourning for their sister, and were all 
sitting in their lodges, their bodies bedaubed from head to 
foot with white clay, and a lock of hair cut from the fore- 
head of each. 

The warriors rode three times round the village ; and 
as each noted champion passed, the old women would 
scream out his name, to honor his bravery, and excite th€ 
emulation of the younger warriors. Little urchins, not 
two years old, followed the warlike pageant with glitter 
ing eyes, and gazed with eager admiration at the heroes 
of their tribe. 

The prDcession rode out of the village as it had entered 
it, and in half an hour all the warriors had returned 
again, dropping quietly in, singly or in parties of two or 
three. 

The parade over, we were entertained with an episode 
cf Indian domestic life. A vicious-looking squaw, beside 
herself with rage, was berating her spouse, who, with a 
look of total unconcern,' sat cross-legged in the middle of 

11 



162 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

his lodge, smoking his pipe in silence. At length, inad 
dened bj his coolness, she made a rush at the lodge, seized 
the p'oles which supported it, and tugged at them, one 
after tlie other, till she brought down the whole structure, 
poles, hides, and all, clattering on his head, burying hira 
in the wreck of his habitation. He pushed aside the 
hides with his hand, and presently his head emerged, like 
a turtle's from its shell. Still he sat smokhig sedately as 
before, a wicked glitter in his eyes alone betraying the 
pent-up storm within. The squaw, scolding all the while, 
proceeded to saddle her horse, bestride him, and canter 
out of the camp, intending, as it seemed, to return to her 
father's lodge, wherever that might be. The warrior, who 
had not deigned even to look at her, now coolly arose, 
disengaged liimself from the ruins, tied a cord of hair by 
way of bridle round the jaw of his buffalo-horse, broke a 
stout cudgel, about four feet long, from the but-end of a 
lodge-pole, mounted, and galloped majestically over the 
prairie to discipline liis offending helpmeet. 

As the sun rose next morning we looked across the 
meadow, and could see the lodges levelled and the Indians 
gathering together in preparation to leave the camp. 
Tlieir course lay to the westward. We turned towards 
the north with our three men, the four trappers following 
us, with the Indian family of Morin. We travelled until 
night, and encamped among some trees by the side of a 
little brook, where during the whole of the next day we 
lay waiting for Bisonette ; but no Bisonette appeared. 
Here two of our trapper 'friends left us, and set out for 
the Rocky Mountains. On the second morning, despair- 
ing of Bisonette's arrival, we resumed our journey, 
traversing a forlorn and dreary monotony of sun-scorclied 
plains, where no living thing appeared save here and 
there an antelope flying before us* like the wind. Wlien 



ILL-LUCK. 163 

QOOl) came we saw an unwonted and welcome sight ; a 
fine growth of trees, marking tlie course of a little 
stream called Horseshoe Creek. They stood wide asun- 
der, spreading a thick canopy of leaves above a surface 
of rich, tall grass. The stream ran swiftly, as clear as 
crystal, through the bosom of the wood, sparkling over 
its bed of white sand, and darkening again as it entered 
a deep cavern of foliage. I was thoroughly exhausted, 
and flung myself on the ground, scarcely able to move. 

In the morning, as glorious a sun rose upon us as ever 
animated that wilderness. We advanced, and soon were 
surrounded by tall bare hills, overspread from top to bot- 
tom with prickly-pears and other cacti, that seemed like 
clinging reptiles. A plain, flat and hard, with scarcely 
the vestige of grass, lay before us, and a line of tall mis- 
shapen trees bounded the onward view. There was no 
sight or sound of man or beast, or any living thing, 
although behind those trees was the long-looked-for place 
of rendezvous, where we hoped to have found the Indians 
congregated by thousands. We looked and listened anx- 
iously. We pushed forward with our best speed, and 
forced our horses through the trees. There were copses 
of some extent beyond, with a scanty stream creeping 
among them ; and as we pressed through the yielding 
branches, deer sprang up to the right and left. At length 
we caught a glimpse of the prairie beyond, emerged upon 
it, and saw, not a plain covered with encampments and 
swarming with life, but a vast unbroken desert stretching 
away before us league upon league, without bush or tree, 
or any thing that had life. We drew rein and gave to the 
winds our sentiments concerning the whole aboriginal 
race of America. Our journey was worse than vain. 
For myself, I was vexed beyond measure ; as I well knew 
that a slight aggravation of my disorder would render 



164 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

this false step irrevocable, and make it impossible to ac 
complish effectually the object which had led me an ardu- 
ous journey of between three and four thousand miles. 

And where were the Indians ? They were mustered 
in great numbers at a spot about twenty miles distant, 
where at that very moment they were dancing their war 
dances. The scarcity of buflfalo in the vicinity of La 
Bont^'s camp, which would render their supply of provi- 
sions scanty and precarious, had probably prevented them 
from assembling there ; but of all this we knew nothing 
until some weeks after. 

Shaw lashed his horse and galloped forward. I, though 
much more vexed than he, was not strong enough to adopt 
this convenient vent to my feelings ; so I followed at a 
quiet pace. We rode up to a solitary old tree, which 
seemed the only place fit for encampment. Half its 
branches were dead, and the rest were so scantily fur- 
nished with leaves that they cast but a meagre and 
wretched shade. We threw down our saddles in the 
strip of shadow cast by the old twisted trunk, and sat 
down upon them. In silent indignation we remained 
smoking for an hour or more, shifting our saddles with 
the shifting shadow, for the sun was intolerably hot. 



OHAPTER Xni. 

HUNTING INDIANS. 

A T last we had reached La Bont^'s camp, towards 
-^^^ which our eyes had turned so long. Of all weary 
hours, those that passed between noon and sunset of that 
day may bear away the palm of exquisite discomfort. I 
lay under the tree reflecting on what course to pursue, 
watching the shadows which seemed never to move, and 
the sun which seemed fixed in the sky, and hoping 
every moment to see the men and horses of Bisonette 
emerging from the woods. Shaw and Henry had ridden 
out on a scouting expedition, and did not return till the 
Bun was setting. There was nothing very cheering in 
their faces or in the news they brought. 

" We have been ten miles from here," said Shaw. " We 
climbed the highest butte we could find, and could not 
see a buffalo or an Indian ; nothing but prairie for twenty 
miles around us." Henry's horse was disabled by clam- 
bering up and down the sides of ravines, and Shaw's was 
greatly fatigued. 

After supper that evening, as we sat around the fire, I 
proposed to Shaw to wait one day longer, in hopes of 
Bisonette' s arrival, and if he should not come, to send 
Dcslauriers with the cart and baggage back to Fort Lara- 
mie, while we ourselves followed The Whirlwind's village, 
and attempted to overtake it as it passed the mountains. 
Shaw, not having the same motive for hunting Lidians 



166 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

that I had, was averse to the plan ; I therefore resolvecl 
to go alone. This design I adopted very unwillingly, for 
I knew that in the present state of my health the attempt 
would be painful and hazardous. I hoped that Bisonette 
would appear in the course of the following day, and 
bring us some information by which to direct our course, 
thus enabling me to accomplish my purpose by means 
less objectionable. 

The rifle of Henry Chatillon was necessary for the sub 
sistence of the party in my absence : so I called Raymond, 
and ordered him to prepare to set out with me. Ray- 
mond rolled his eyes vacantly about, but at length, having 
succeeded in grappling with the idea, he withdrew to his 
bed under the cart. He was a heavy-moulded fellow, 
with a broad face, expressing impenetrable stupidity and 
entire self-confidence. As for his good qualities, he had 
a sort of stubborn fidelity, an insensibility to danger, and 
a kind of instinct or sagacity, which sometimes led him 
right, where better heads than his were at a loss. Be- 
sides this, he knew very well how to handle a rifle and 
picket a horse. 

Through the following day the sun glared down upon 
us with a pitiless, penetrating heat. The distant blue 
prairie seemed quivering under it. The lodge of our 
Indian associates parched in the burning rays, and our 
rifles, as they leaned against the tree, were too hot for 
the touch. There was a dead silence through our camp, 
broken only by the hum of gnats and mosquitoes. The 
men, resting their foreheads on their arms, were sleeping 
under the cart. The Indians kept close within their 
lodge, except the newly-married pair, who were seated 
together under an awning of buffalo-robes, and the old 
conjurer, who, with his hard, emaciated face and gaunt 
ribs, was perched aloft like a turkey-buzzard, among the 



HUNTING INDIANS. 167 

dead branches of an old tree, constantly on the lookout 
for enemies. We dined, and then Shaw saddled his horse. 

" I will ride back,'* said he, " to Horseshoe Creek, 
and see if Bisonette is there." 

''I would go with you," I answered, "but I must 
reserve all the strength I have." 

The afternoon dragged away at last. I occupied 
myself in cleaning my rifle and pistols, and making other 
preparations for the journey. It was late before 1 
wrapped myself in my blanket, and lay down for the 
night, with my head on my saddle. Shaw had not 
returned, but this gave us no uneasiness, for we supposed 
that he had fallen in with Bisonette, and was spending 
the night with him. For a day or two past I had gained 
in strength and health, but about midnight an attack of 
pain awoke me, and for some hours I could not sleep 
The moon was quivering on the broad breast of the 
Platte ; nothing could be heard except those low inex- 
plicable sounds, like whisperings and footsteps, which no 
one who has spent the night alone amid deserts and 
forests will be at a loss to understand. As I was falling 
asleep, a familiar voice, shouting from the distance, 
awoke me again. A rapid step approached the camp, 
and Shaw on foot, with his gun in his hand, hastily 
entered. 

" Where's your horse ? " said I, raising myself on my 
slbow. 

*' Lost ! " said Shaw. " Where's Deslauriers ? " 

" There," I replied, pointing to a confused mass of 
blankets and buffalo-robes. 

Shaw touched them with the butt of his gun, and up 
sprang our faithful Canadian. 

•• Come, Deslauriers ; stir up the fire, and get me 
sumethins tc eat." 



168 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

" Where's Bisonette ? " asked I. 

" The Lord knows ; there's nobody at Horseshoe 
Creek." 

Shaw had gone back to the spot where we had encamped 
two days before, and finding nothing there but the ashes of 
our fires, he had tied his horse to the tree while he bathed 
in the stream. Something startled his horse, which 
broke loose, and for two hours Shaw tried in vain to 
catch him. Sunset approached, and it was twelve miles 
to camp. So he abandoned the attempt, and set out on 
foot to join us. The greater part of his perilous and 
solitary walk was in darkness. His moccasins were 
worn to tatters and his feet severely lacerated. He sat 
down to eat, however, the usual equanimity of his tem- 
per not at all disturbed by his misfortune, and my last 
recollection before falling asleep was of Shaw, seated 
cross-legged before the fire, smoking his pipe. 

When I awoke again there was a fresh damp smell in 
the air, a gray twilight involved the prairie, and above its 
eastern verge was a streak of cold red sky. I called to 
the men, and in a moment a fire was blazing brightly in 
the dim morning light, and breakfast was getting ready 
We sat down together on the grass, to the last civilized 
meal which Raymond and I were destined to enjoy for 
some time. 

" Now bring in the horses." 

My little mare Pauline was soon standing by the hre 
She was a fleet, hardy, and gentle animal, christened 
after Paul Dorion, from whom I had procured her in 
exchange for Pontiac. She did not look as if equipped 
for a morning pleasure-ride. In Tront of the black, 
high-bowed- mountain-saddle were fastened holsters, with 
heavy pistols. A pair of saddle-bags, a blanket tightly 
rolled, a small parcel of Indian presents tied up in a 



HUNTING INDIANS. 169 

bnfTaloskin, a leather bag of flour, and a smaller one of 
tea, were all secured behind, and a long trail-rope was 
wound round her neck. Raymond had a strong black 
mule, equipped in a similar manner. We crammed out 
Dowder-horns to the throat, and mounted. 

" I will meet you at Fort Laramie on the first of 
August," said I to Shaw. 

"That is," he replied, "if we don't meet before that. 
I think I shall follow after you in a day or two." 

This in fact he attempted, and would have succeeded if 
iie had not encountered obstacles against which his reso 
lute spirit was of no avail. Two days after I left him he 
sent Deslauriers to the fort with the cart and baggage, 
and set out for the mountains with Henry Chatillon ; but 
a tremendous thunder-storm had deluged the prairie, and 
nearly obliterated not only our trail but that of the In- 
dians themselves. They encamped at the base of the 
mountains, at a loss in what direction to go. In the 
morning Shaw found himself poisoned by the plant known 
as " poison ivy," in such a manner that it was impossible 
for him to travel. So they turned back reluctantly toward 
Fort Laramie. Shaw lay seriously ill for a week, and re- 
mained at the fort till I rejoined him some time after. 

To return to my own story. Raymond and I shook 
hands with our friends, rode out upon the prairie, and, 
clambering the sandy hollows channelled in the sides of 
tlie hills, gained the high plains above. If a curse had 
been pronounced upon the land, it could not have worn 
an aspect more forlorn. There were abrupt broken inlls, 
deep hollows, and wide plains ; but all alike glared with an 
insupportable whiteness under the burning sun. The 
country, as if parched by the heat, was cracked into innu- 
merable fissures and ravines, that not a little impeded oui 
progress. Their steep sides were white and raw. and 



170 THE OREGON TRAIL,. 

along the bottom we several times discovered the broad 
tracks of the grizzly bear, nowhere more abmidant than 
in this region. The ridges of the hills were hard as rock, 
and strewn with pebbles of flint and coarse red jasper ; 
looking from them, there was nothing to relieve the desert 
uniformity, save here and there a pine-tree clinging at the 
edge of a ravine, and stretching its rough, shaggy arms 
into the scorching air. Its resinous odors recalled the 
pine-clad mountains of New England, and, goaded as I was 
with a morbid thirst, I thought with a longing desire on the 
crystal treasure poured in such wasteful profusion from 
our thousand hills. I heard, in fancy, the plunging and 
gurgling of waters among the shaded rocks, and saw them 
gleaming dark and still far down amid the crevices, the 
cold drops trickling from the long green mosses. 

When noon came we found a little stream, with a few 
trees and bushes ; and here we rested for an hour. Then 
we travelled on, guided by the sun, until, just before 
sunset, we reached another stream, called Bitter Cotton- 
wood Creek. A thick growth of bushes and old storm- 
beaten trees grew at intervals along its bank. Near the 
foot of one of the trees we flung down our saddles, and 
hobbling our horses, turned them loose to feed. The 
little stream was clear and swift, and ran musically over 
its white sands. Small water-birds were splashing in 
the shallows, and filling the air with cries and flutter- 
ings. The sun was just sinking among gold and crimson 
clouds behind Mount Laramie. I lay upon a log by the 
margin of the water, and watched the restless motions of 
the little fish in a deep still nook below. Strange to say, 
I seemed to have gained strength since the morning, and 
almost felt a sense of returning health. 

We built our fire. Night came, and the wolves began 
to howl. One deep voice began, answered in awful re 



HUNTING INDIANS. 171 

r.ponses from hills, plains, and woods. Such sounds do 
UDt disturb one's sleep upon the prairie. We picketed 
the mare and the mule, and did not awake until daylight. 
Then we turned them loose, still hobbled, to feed for an 
hour before starting. We were getting ready our break 
fast when Raymond saw an antelope half a mile distant 
and said he would go and shoot it. 

" Your business," said I, " is to look after the animals. 
I am too weak to do much, if any thing happens to them, 
and you must keep within sight of the camp." 

Raymond promised, and set out with his rifle in his 
hand. The mare and the mule had crossed the stream, 
and were feeding among the long grass on the other side, 
much tormented by the attacks of large green-headed flies. 
As I watched them, I saw them go down into a hollow, 
and as several minutes elapsed Vithout their reappearing,. 
I waded through the stream to look after them. To my 
vexation and alarm I discovered them at a great distance, 
galloping away at full speed, Pauline in advance, with 
her hobbles broken, and the mule, still fettered, following 
with awkward leaps. I fired my rifle and shouted to re- 
call Raymond. In a moment he came running through 
the stream, with a red handkerchief bound round his head. 
I pointed to the fugitives, and ordered him to pursue them. 
Muttering a " Sacre," between his teeth, he set out at full 
speed, still swinging his rifle in his hand. I walked up 
;o the top of a hill, and, looking away over the prairie, 
could distinguish the runaways, still at full gallop. Re- 
turning to the fire, I sat down at the foot of a tree. 
Wearily and anxiously hour after hour passed away. The 
loose bark dangling from the trunk behind me flapi)ed to 
and fro in the wind, and the mosquitoes kept up their 
di'owsy hum ; but other than this there was no sight nor 
sound of life throughout the burning landscape. The sue 



172 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

rose higher and higher, until I knew that it must be noon 
It seemed scarcely possible that the animals could be re- 
covered. If they were not, my situation was one of serious 
difficulty. Shaw, when I left him, had decided to move 
that morning, but whither he had not determined. To 
look for him would be a vain attempt. Fort Laramie was 
forty miles distant, and I could not walk a mile without 
great effort. Not then having learned the philosophy of 
yielding to disproportionate obstacles, I resolved, come 
what would, to continue the pursuit of the Indians. OnljT 
one plan occurred to me ; this was, to send Raymond to 
the fort with an order for more horses, while I remained 
on the spot, awaiting his return, which might take place 
within three days. But to remain stationary and alone 
for three days, in a country full of dangerous Indians, 
was not the most flattering of prospects ; and, protracted 
as my Indian hunt must be by such delay, it was not easy 
to foretell its result. Revolving these matters, I grew 
hungry ; and as our stock of provisions, except four or 
five pounds of flour, was by this time exhausted, I left the 
camp to see what game I could find. Nothing could be 
seen except four or five large curlews wheeling over my 
head, and now and then alighting upon the prairie. 1 
shot two of them, and was about returning, when a start- 
ling sight caught my eye. A small, dark object, like a 
human head, suddenly appeared, and vanished among the 
thick bushes along the stream below. In that country 
every stranger is a suspected enemy ; and I threw forward 
the muzzle of my rifle. In a moment the bushes were vio 
lently shaken, two heads, but not human heads, protruded, 
and to my great joy I recognized the downcast, disconso- 
late countenance of the black mule and the yellow visage 
of Pauline. Raymond came upon the mule, pale and 
hagg.nrd, complaining of a fiery pain in his chest. I took 



HUNTING INDIANS. 113 

charge of the animals while he kneeled down by the side 
of the stream to drink. He had kept the runaways in 
sight as far as the Side Fork of Laramie Creek, a dis- 
tance of more than ten miles ; and here with great diffi- 
culty he had succeeded in catching them. I saw that he 
was unarmed, and asked him what he had done with his 
rifle. It had encumbered him in his pursuit, and he had 
dropped it on the prairie, thinking that he could find it 
on his return ; but in this he had failed. The loss might 
prove a very serious one. I was too much rejoiced, how- 
ever, at the recovery of the animals, and at the fidelity 
of Raymond, who might easily have deserted with them, 
to think much about it ; and having made some tea for 
him in a tin vessel which we had brought with us, I told 
him that I would give him two hours for resting before 
we set out again. He had eaten nothing that day ; but 
having no appetite, he lay down immediately to sleep. 1 
picketed the animals among the best grass that I could 
find, and made fires of green wood to protect them from 
the flies ; then sitting down again by the tree, I watched 
the slow movements of the sun, grudging every moment 
that passed. 

The time I had mentioned expired, and I awoke Ray 
mond. We saddled and set out again, but first we went 
in search of the lost rifle, and in the course of an hour 
were fortunate enough to find it. Then we turned west- 
ward, and moved over the hills and hollows at a slow pace 
towards the Black Hills. The heat no longer tormented 
us, for a cloud was before the sun. The air grew fresh and 
cool, the distant mountains frowned more gloomily, there 
was a low muttering of thunder, and dense black masses 
of cloud rose heavily behind the broken peaks. At first 
they were fringed with silver by the afternoon sun ; but 
soon thick blackness overspread the sky, and the deseW 



174 THE OREGUJN TRAIL. 

around us was wrapped in gloom. There was an awful 
sublimity in the hoarse murmuring of the thunder, and 
the sombre shadows that involved the mountains and thej 
plain. The storm broke with a zigzag blinding flash, a 
terrific crash of thunder, and a hurricane that howled 
over the prairie, dashing floods of water against us. 
Raymond looked about him and cursed the merciless ele- 
ments. There seemed no shelter near, but we discerned 
at lengtli a deep ravine gashed in the level prairie, and saw 
half-way down its side an old pine-tree, whose rough hori- 
zontal boughs formed a sort of pent-house against the 
tempest. We found a practicable passage, led our ani- 
mals down, and fastened them to large loose stones at the 
bottom ; then climbing up, we drew our blankets over our 
heads, and crouched close beneath the old tree. Perhaps 
I was no competent judge of time, but it seemed to me 
that we were sitting there a full hour, while around us 
[)Oured a deluge of rain, through which the rocks on 
the opposite side of the gulf were barely visible. The 
iirst burst of the tempest soon subsided, but the rain 
poured in steady torrents. At length Raymond grew im- 
[)atient, and scrambling out of the ravine, gained the level 
prairie above. 

" What does the weather look like ? " asked I, from my 
seat under the tree. 

" It looks bad," he answered : " dark all round ; " and 
again he descended and sat down by my side. Some ten 
minutes elapsed. 

" Go up again," said I, " and take another look ; " and 
he clambered up the precipice. " Well, how is it ? '^ 

*' Just the same, only I see one little bright spot over 
the top of the mountain." 

The rain by this time had begun to abate ; and going 
down to tlie bottom of the ^-avine, we loosened the uni 



HUNTING INDIANS. 175 

mals, who were standing up to their knees in water. 
Leading them up the rocky throat of the ravine, we 
reached the plain above. All around us was obscurity ; 
but the bright spot above the mountains grew wider and 
ruddier, until at length the clouds drew apart, and a flood 
of sunbeams poured down, streaming along the precipices, 
and involving them in a thin blue hazo, as soft as that 
which wraps the Apennines on an evening in spring. 
Rapidly the clouds were broken and scattered, like routed 
legions of evil spirits. The plain lay basking in sun- 
beams around us ; a rainbow arched the desert from 
north to south, and far in front a line of woods seemed 
inviting us to refreshment and repose. When we reached 
them, they were glistening with prismatic dew-drops, and 
enlivened by the songs and flutterings of birds. Strange 
winged insects, benumbed by the rain, were clinging to the 
leaves and the bark of the trees. 

Raymond kindled a fire with great difficulty. The 
animals turned eagerly to feed on the soft rich grass, 
while I, wrapping myself in my blanket, lay down and 
gazed on the evening landscape. The mountains, whose 
stern features had frowned upon us so gloomily, seemed 
lighted up with a benignant smile, and the green waving 
undulations of the plain were gladdened with warm 
sunshine. Wet, ill, and wearied as I was, my heart grew 
lighter at the view, and I drew from it an augury of 
good. 

Wiien morning came, Raymond awoke, coughing vio 
iently, though I had apparently received no injury. We 
mounted, crossed the little stream, pushed through the 
trees, and began our journey over the plain beyond. And 
now, as we rode slowly along, we looked an:xiously on 
every hand for traces of the Indians, not doubting that 
the village had passed somewhere in that vicinity; but 



176 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

the scanty shrivelled grass was not more than three or 
four inches high, and the ground was so hard that a 
host might have marched over it and left scarcely a 
trace of its passage. Up hill and down hill, and clam- 
bering through ravines, we continued our journey. As 
we were passing the foot of a hill, I saw Raymond, 
who was some rods in advance, suddenly jerk the reins 
of his mule, slide from his seat, and run in a crouch 
ing posture up a hollow ; then in an instant I heard 
the sharp crack of his rifle. A wounded antelope came 
running on three legs over the hill. I lashed Pauline 
and made after him. My fleet little mare soon brought 
me by his side, and, after leaping and bounding for a 
few moments in vain, he stood still, as if despairing 
of escape. His glistening eyes turned up towards my 
face with so piteous a look, that it was with feelings 
of infinite compunction that I shot him through the 
head with a pistol. Raymond skinned and cut him up, 
and we hung the fore-quarters to our saddles, much re- 
joiced that our exhausted stock of provisions was re- 
newed in such good time. 

Gaining the top of a hill, we could see along the 
cloudy verge of the prairie before us the lines of trees 
and shadowy groves, that marked the course of Laramie 
Creek. Before noon we reached its banks, and began 
anxiously to search them for footprints of the Indians. 
We followed the stream for several miles, now on the 
shore and now wading in the water, scrutinizing every 
sand-bar and every muddy bank. So long was the 
search, that we began to fear that we had left the trail 
undiscovered behind us. At length I heard Raymond 
shouting, and saw him jump from his mule to examine 
some object under the shelving bank. I rode up to his 
side. It was the impression of an Indian moccasin. 



HUNTING INDIANS. 177 

Encouraged by this, we continued our search till at last 
Kome appearances on a soft surface of earth not far from 
the shore attracted my eye ; and going to examine them 
1 found half a dozen tracks, some made by men and 
some by children. Just then Raymond observed across 
ll:e stream the mouth of a brook, entering it from the 
^(iuth. He forded the water, rode4n at the opening, and 
in a moment I heard him shouting again ; so I passed 
over and joined him. The brook had a broad sandy bed, 
along which the water trickled in a scanty stream ; and 
on either bank the bushes were so close that the view 
was completely intercepted. I found Raymond stooping 
over the footprints of three or four horses. Proceeding, 
we found those of a man, then those of a child, then 
those of more horses ; till at last the bushes on each bank 
were beaten down and broken, and the sand ploughed up 
with a multitude of footsteps, and scored across with the 
furrows made by the lodge-poles that had been dragged 
tlirough. It was now certain that we had found the trail. 
I pushed through the bushes, and at a little distance on 
the prairie beyond found the ashes of a hundred and fifty 
lodge-fires, with bones and pieces of buffalo-robes scattered 
about, and the pickets to which horses had been tied, still 
standing in the ground. Elated by our success, we se- 
lected a convenient tree, and, turning the animals loose, 
prepared to make a meal from the haunch of the antelope. 
Hardship and exposure had thriven with me wonder- 
fully. I had gained both health and strength since 
leaving La Route's camp. Raymond and I dined to- 
gether, in high spirits ; for we rashly presumed that 
having found one end of the trail we should have little 
difficulty in reaching the other. But when the animals 
were led in, we found that our ill-luck had not ceased tc 
tollow us. As I was saddling Pauline, I saw that her eye 

12 



178 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

was dull as lead, and the hue of her yellow coat visiblj? 
darkened. I placed my foot m the stirrup to mount, 
when she staggered and fell flat on her side. Gaining 
her feet with an effort, she stood by the fire with a droop- 
ing head. Whether she had been bitten by a snake, or 
poisoned by some noxious plant, or attacked by a sudden 
disorder, it was hard to say ; but at all events, her sick 
uess was sufficiently ill-timed and unfortunate. I sue 
ceeded in a second attempt to mount her, and with a slo^ 
pace we moved forward on the trail of the Indians. It 
led us up a hill and over a dreary plain ; and here, to our 
great mortification, the traces almost disappeared, for the 
ground was hard as adamant ; and if its flinty surface 
liad ever retained the dint of a hoof, the marks had been 
washed away by the deluge of yesterday. An Indian 
village, in its disorderly march, is scattered over the 
prairie often to the width of half a mile ; so that its 
trail is nowhere clearly marked, and the task of follow 
ing it is made doubly wearisome and difficult. By good 
fortune, many large ant-hills, a yard or more in diameter, 
were scattered over the plain, and these were frequently 
broken by the footprints of men and horses, and marked 
by traces of the lodge-poles. The succulent leaves of the 
prickly-pear, bruised from the same causes, also helped 
to guide us ; so, inch by inch, we moved along. Often 
we lost the trail altogether, and then found it again ; but 
late in the afternoon we were totally at fault. We stood 
alone, without a clew to guide us. The broken plain ex- 
panded for league after league around us, and in front 
the long dark ridge of mountains stretched from north to 
south. Mount Laramie, a little on our right, towered 
high above the rest, and from a dark valley just beyohd 
one of its lower declivities, we discerned volumes of white 
smoko rising slowly. 



HUNTING INDIANS. 179 

" I think," said Raymond, " some Indians must be 
there. Perhaps we had better go." But this plan was 
not lightly to be adopted, and we determined still to con- 
tinue our search after the lost trail. Our good stars 
prompted us to this decision, for we afterward had reason 
to believe, from information given us by the Indians, 
that the smoke was raised as a decoy by a Crow wai- 
party. 

Evening was coming on, and there was no wood or 
water nearer than the foot of the mountains. So thither 
we turned, directing our course towards the point where 
Laramie Creek issues upon the prairie. When we reached 
it, the bare tops of the mountains were still bright with 
sunshine. The little river was breaking, with an angry 
current, from its dark prison. There was something in 
the close vicinity of the mountains and the loud surging 
of the rapids, wonderfully cheering and exhilarating. 
There was a grass-plot by the river bank, surrounded 
by low ridges, which would effectually screen us and our 
hre from the sight of wandering Indians. Here, among 
the grass, I observed numerous circles of large stones, 
traces of a Dahcotah winter encampment. We lay down, 
and did not awake till the sun was up. A large rock 
projected from the shore, and behind it the deep water 
was slowly eddying round and round. The temptation 
was irresistible. I threw off my clothes, leaped in, suf 
fered myself to be borne once round with the current, 
and tlien, seizing the strong root of a water-plant, drew 
myself to the shore. The effect was so refreshing, that 
I mistook it for returning health. But scarcely were we 
mounted and on our way, before the momentary glow 
passed. Again I hung as usual in my seat, scarcely able 
to hold myself erect. 

'* Look yonder," said Raymond ; " you see that big 



1 80 THE OREGON TRAIL 

hollow there ; the Indians must have gone that way, if 
they went anywhere about here." 

We reached the gap, which was like a deep notch cut 
into the mountain-ridge, and here we soon found an ant- 
hill furrowed with the mark of a lodge-pole. This was 
quite enough ; there could be no doubt now. As we rode 
on, the opening growing narrower, the Indians had beci] 
compelled to march in closer order, and the traces be- 
came numerous and distinct. The gap terminated in a 
rocky gateway, leading into a rough and steep defile, 
between two precipitous mountains. Here grass and 
weeds were bruised to fragments by the throng that had 
passed through. We moved slowly over the rocks, up 
tlie passage ; and in this toilsome manner advanced for 
an hour or two, bare precipices, hundreds of feet high, 
shooting up on either hand. Raymond, with his hardy 
mule, was a few rods before me, when we came to the 
foot of an ascent steeper than the rest, and which I 
trusted might prove the highest point of the defile. Pau- 
line strained upward for a few yards, moaning and stum 
bling, and then came to a dead stop, unable to proceed 
further. I dismounted, and attempted to lead her ; but 
my own exhausted strength soon gave out ; so I loosened 
the trail-rope from her neck, and tying it round my arm, 
crawled up on my hands and knees. I gained the top, 
totally spent, the sweat-drops trickling from my forehead. 
Pauline stood like a statue by my side, her shadow falling 
upon the scorching rock ; and in this shade, for there 
was no other, I lay for some time, scarcely able to move a 
limb. All around, the black crags, sharp as needles at 
the top, stood baking in the sun, without tree or bush 
or blade of grass to cover their nakedness. The whole 
scone seemed parched with a pitiless, insuiferable heat. 

After a while I could mount again, and we moved on. 



HUNTING INDIANS. 181 

descending the defile on its western side. There was 
something ridiculous in the situation. Man and horse 
were helpless alike. Pauline and I could neither fight 
nor run. 

Raymond's saddle-girth slipped ; and while I proceeded 
he stopped to repair the mischief. I came to the top of 
a little declivity, where a welcome sight greeted my eye ; 
a nook of fresh green grass nestled among the cliffs, 
simny clumps of bushes on one side, and shaggy old 
pine-trees leaning from the rocks on the other. A shrill, 
familiar voice saluted me, and recalled me to days of 
boyhood; that of the insect called the " locust" by New 
England schoolboys, which was clinging among the heated 
boughs of the old pine-trees. Then, too, as I passed the 
bushes, the low sound of falling water reached my ear. 
Pauline turned of her own accord, and pushing through 
the boughs, we found a black rock, overarched by the cool 
green canopy. An icy stream was pouring from its side 
into a wide basin of white sand, whence it had no visible 
outlet, but filtered through into the soil below. While 1 
filled a tin cup at the spring, Pauline was eagerly plung 
ing her head deep in the pool. Other visitors had been 
there before us. All around in the soft soil were the 
footprints of elk, deer, and the Rocky Mountain sheep ; 
and the grizzly bear too had left the recent prints of his 
broad foot, with its frightful array of claws. Among 
these mountains was his home. 

Soon after leaving the spring we found a little grassy 
plain, encircled by the mountains, and marked, to our 
great j»)y, with all the traces of an Indian camp. Ray- 
mond's practised eye detected certain signs, by which he 
recognized the spot where Reynal's lodge had been pitched 
and his horses picketed. I approached, and stood look- 
ing at the place. Reynal and I had, I believe, hardly a 



182 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

feeling in common, and it perplexed me a good deal to 
understand why I should look with so much Interest on 
the ashes of his fire, when between him and me there 
was no other bond of sympathy than the slender and pre 
carious one of a kindred race. 

In half an hour from this we were free of the moun 
tains. There was a plain before us, totally barren and 
thickly peopled in many parts with prairie-dogs, who sat 
at the mouths of their burrows and yelped at us as we 
passed. The plain, as we thought, was about six miles 
wide ; but it cost us two hours to cross it. Then another 
mountain-range rose before us. From the dense bushes l.^at 
clothed the steeps for a thousand feet shot up black crags, 
all leaning one way, and shattered by storms and thunder 
into grim and threatening shapes. As we entered a nar- 
row ]}assage on the trail of the Indians, they impended 
frightfully above our heads. 

Our course was through thick woods, in the shade and 
sunliglit of overhanging boughs. As we wound from side 
to side of the passage, to avoid its obstructions, we could 
see at intervals, through the foliage, the awful forms of 
the gigantic cliffs, that seemed to hem us in on the right 
and on the left, before and behind. 

In an open space, fenced in by high rocks, stood two 
Indian forts, of a square form, rudely built of sticks and 
logs. They were somewhat ruinous, having probably been 
constructed the year before. Each might have contained 
about twenty men. Perhaps in this gloomy spot some 
party had been beset by enemies, and those scowling rocks 
and blasted trees might not long since have looked down 
on a conflict, unchronicled and unknown. Yet if any 
traces of bloodshed remained they were hidden by the 
bushes and tall rank weeds. 

Gradually the mountains drew apart, and the passage 



HUKTING INDIANS. 18;^ 

expanded into a plain, where again we found traces of an 
Indian encampment. There were trees and bushes just 
before us, and we stopped here for an hour's rest and re- 
freshment. When we had finished our meaL^ Raymond 
struck fire, and, lighting his pipe, sat down at the foot of 
a tree to smoke. For some time I observed him puffing 
away with a face of unusual solemnity. Then slowly 
taking the pipe from his lips, he looked up and remarked 
that we had better not go any farther. 

" Why not ? " asked I. 

He said tliat the country was become very dangerous, 
that we were entering the range of the Snakes, Arapahoes, 
and Gros-ventre Blackfeet, and that if any of their wan- 
dering parties should meet us, it would cost us our lives ; 
but he added with blunt fidelity, that he would go anywhere 
I wished. I told him to bring up the animals, and mount- 
ing them we proceeded again. I confess that, as we 
moved forward, the prospect seemed but a doubtful one. 
I would have given the world for my ordinary elasticity 
of body and mind, and for a horse of such strength and 
spirit as the journey required. 

Closer and closer the rocks gathered round us, growing 
taller and steeper, and pressing more and more upon our 
path. We entered at length a defile which, in its way, 
I never have seen rivalled. The mountain was cracked 
from top to bottom, and we were creeping along the bot- 
tom of the fissure, in dampness and gloom, with the clink 
of hoofs on the loose shingly rocks, and the hoarse mur- 
muring of a petulant brook which kept us company. 
Sometimes the water, foaming among the stones, over- 
spread the whole narrow passage ; sometimes, withdraw 
ing to one side, it gave us room to pass dry-shod. Looking 
up, we could see a narrow ribbon of bright blue sky be- 
tween the dark edges of the opposing cliffs. This did 



1^4: THE OREGOxN TRAIL. 

not last long. The passage soon widened, and sun])eams 
found their way down, flashing upon the black waters. 
The defile would spread to many rods in width ; bushes, 
trees, and flowers would spring by the side of the brook; 
the cliffs would be feathered with shrubbery, that clung 
in every crevice, and fringed with trees, that grew along 
their sunny edges. Then we would be moving again in 
darkness. The passage seemed about four miles long, 
and before we reached the end of it, the unshod hoofs of 
our animals were broken, and their legs cut by the sharp 
stones. Issuing from the mountain we found another 
plain. All around it stood a circle of precipices, that 
seemed the impersonation of Silence and Solitude. Here 
again the Indians had encamped, as well they might, after 
passing with their women, children, and horses, through 
the gTilf behind us. In one day we had made a journey 
which it had cost them three to accomplish. 

The only outlet to this amphitheatre lay over a hill 
some two hundred feet high, up which we moved with 
difficulty. Looking from the top, we saw that at last we 
were free of the mountains. The prairie spread before 
us, but so wild and broken 'that the view was everywhere 
obstructed. Far on our left one tall hill swelled up 
against the sky, on the smooth, pale-green surface of 
which four slowly moving black specks were discernible. 
They were evidently buffalo, and we hailed the sight as a 
good augury ; for where the buffalo were, there the In- 
dians would probably be found. We hoped on that very 
night to reach the village. We were anxious to do so for 
a double reason, wishing to bring our journey to an end, 
and knowing moreover that though to enter the village in 
broad daylight would be perfectly safe, yet to encamp in 
its vicinity would be dangerous. But as we rode on, the 
sun was sinkmg, and soon was within half an houi of 



HUNTING INDIANS. 185 

fclie horizon. We ascended a hill and looked about us for 
a spot for our encampment. The prairie was like a tur- 
bulent ocean, suddenly congealed when its waves were at 
the highest, and it lay half in light and half in shadow, 
as the rich sunshine, yellow as gold, was pouring over it. 
The rough bushes of the wild sage were growing every 
where, its dull pale-green overspreading hill and hollow. 
Yet a little way before us, a bright verdant line of grass 
was winding along the plain, and here and there through- 
out its course glistened pools of water. We went down 
to it, kindled a fire, and turned our horses loose to feed. 
It was a little trickling brook, that for some yards on 
either side turned the barren prairie into fertility, and 
here and there it spread into deep pools, where the beav 
ers had dammed it up. 

We placed our last remaining piece of antelope before 
a scanty fire, mournfully reflecting on our exhausted stock 
of provisions. Just then a large gray hare, peculiar to 
these prairies, came jumping along, and seated himself 
\rithin fifty yards to look at us. I thoughtlessly raised 
my rifle to shoot him, but Raymond called out to me not 
to fire for fear the report should reach the ears of the 
Indians. That night for the first time we considered that 
the danger to which we were exposed was of a somewhat 
serious character ; and to those who are unacquainted 
with Indians, it may seem strange that our chief appre- 
hensions arose from the supposed proximity of the people 
whom we intended to visit. Had any straggling party of 
these faithful friends caught sight of us from the hill-top, 
they would probably have returned in the night to plun- 
der us of our horses, and perhaps of our scalps. But the 
prairie is unfavorable to nervousness; and I presume 
that neither Raymond nor I thought twice of the matter 
that evening. 



186 THE OREGON TRAIL 

For eight hours pillowed on our saddles, we lay in- 
sensible as logs. Pauline's yellow head was stretched 
over me wiien I awoke. I rose and examined her. Her 
feet were bruised and swollen by the accidents of yester- 
lay, but her eye was brighter, her motions livelier, and 
her mysterious malady had visibly abated. We moved 
on, hoping within an hour to come in sight of the Indian 
village ; but again disappointment awaited us. The trail 
disappeared upon a hard and stony plain. Raymond and I 
rode from side to side, scrutinizing every yard of ground, 
until at length I found traces of the lodge-poles, by tlie 
side of a ridge of rocks. We began again to folio vv 
them. 

" What is that black spot out there on the prairie ? " 
" It looks like a dead buffalo," answered Raymond. 
We rode to it, and found it to be the huge carcass of 
a bull killed by the hunters as they had passed. Tangled 
hair and scraps of hide were scattered on all sides, for 
the wolves had made merry over it, and hollowed out the 
entire carcass. It was covered with myriads of large 
black crickets, and from its appearance must have lain 
Miere four or five days. The sight was a disheartening 
one, and I observed to Raymond that the Indians might 
still be fifty or sixty miles off. But he shook his head, 
and replied that they dared not go so far for fear of their 
enemies, the Snakes. 

Soon after this we lost the trail again, and ascended a 
neighboring ridge, totally at a loss. Before us lay a 
plain perfectly flat, spreading on the right and left, without 
apparent limit, and bounded in front by a long broken line 
of hills, ten or twelve miles distant. All was open and ex- 
posed to view, yet not a buffalo nor an Indian was visible. 
" Do you see that ? " said Raymond : " now we had 
better turn round." 



HUI^TING INDIANS. 187 

But as Raymond's bourgeois thought otherwise, we de- 
Bcended the hill and began to cross the plain. We had 
come so far that neither Pauline's limbs nor my own 
could carry me back to Fort Laramie. I considered that 
the lines of expediency and inclination tallied exactly, 
and that the most prudent course was to keep forward. 
The ground immediately around us was thickly strewn 
with the skulls and bones of buffalo, for here a year or 
two before the Indians had made a " surround ; " yet no 
living game was in sight. At length an antelope sprang 
up and gazed at us. We fired together, and both missed, 
although the animal stood, a fair mark, within eighty 
yards. This ill-success might perhaps be charged to our 
own eagerness, for by this time we had no provisions 
left except a little flour. We could see several pools of 
water, glistening in the distance. As we approached, 
wolves and antelopes bounded away through the tall 
grass around them, and flocks of large white plover flew 
screaming over their surface. Having failed of the ante- 
lope, Raymond tried his hand at the birds, with the same 
ill-success. The water also disappointed us. Its margin 
was so mired by the crowd of buffalo that our timorous 
animals were afraid to approach. So we turned away 
and moved towards the hills. The rank grass, where it 
was not trampled down by the buffalo, fairly swept our 
horses' necks. 

Again we found the same execrable barren prairie 
offering no clew by which to guide our way. As we drew 
near the hills, an opening appeared, through which the 
Indians must have gone if they had passed that way at 
all. Slowly we began to ascend it. 1 felt the most 
ireary forebodings of ill-success, when on looking round 
1 could discover neither dent of hoof, nor footprint, nor 
fcrace of lodge-pole, thougli the passage was encumbered 



18b THE OREGON fRAIL. 

by the skulls of buffalo. We heard thunder muttering ; 
another storm was coming on. 

As we gained the top of the ga;;, the prospect beyond 
began to disclose itself. First, we saw a long dark line 
of ragged clouds upon the horizon, while above them rose 
the peaks of the Medicine-Bow range, the vanguard of 
the Rocky Mountains ; then little by little the plain came 
into view, a vast green uniformity, forlorn and tenantless, 
though Laramie Creek glistened in a waving Hue over its 
surface, without a bush or a tree upon its banks'. As yet, 
the round projecting shoulder of a hill intercepted a part 
of the view. I rode in advai ce, when suddenly I could 
distinguish a few dark spots on the prairie, along the 
bank of the stream. 

'' Buffalo ! " said I. 

" Horses, by God ! " exclaimed Raymond, lashing his 
mule foi ward as he spoke. More and more of the plain 
disclosed itself, and more and more horses- appeared, 
scattered along the river bank, or feeding in uands over 
the prairie. Then, standing in a circle by t\w stream, 
swarming with their savage inhabitants, we saw a mile 
or more off, the tall lodges of the Ogillallah. Ne^er did 
the heart of wanderer more gladden at the sight o^ home 
than did mine at the sight of that Indian camp. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE. 

npHIS k hardly the place for portraying the mental 
-*- features of the Indians. The same picture, slightlj 
changed in shade and coloring, would serve with very few 
exceptions for all the tribes north of the Mexican terri- 
tories. But with this similarity in their modes of thought, 
the tribes of the lake and ocean shores, of the forests 
and of the plains, differ greatly in their manner of life. 
Having been domesticated for several weeks among one 
of the wildest of the hordes that roam over the remote 
prairies, I had unusual opportunities of observing them, 
and flatter myself that a sketch of the scenes that passed 
daily before my eyes may not be devoid of interest. 
They were thorough savages. Neither their manners nor 
their ideas were in the slightest degree modified by con- 
tact with civilization. They knew nothing of the power 
and real character of the white men, and their children 
would scream in terror when they saw me. Their relig- 
ion, superstitions, and prejudices were the same handed 
down to them from immemorial time. They fought witli 
the weapons that their fathers fought with, and wore the 
same garments of skins. They were living representa- 
tives of the " stone age ; " for though their lances and 
arrows were tipped with iron procured from the traders, 
they still used the rude stone mallet of the primeval 
world. 



190 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

Great changes are at band in that region. With ttie 
stream of emigration to Oregon and California, the baffalo 
will dwindle away, and the large wandering communities 
who depend on them for support must be broken and 
scattered. The Indians will soon be abased by whiskey 
and overawed by military posts ; so that within a few 
years the traveller may pass in tolerable security through 
their country. Its danger and its charm will have disap 
peared together. 

As soon as Raymond and I discovered the village from 
the gap in the hills, we were seen in our turn ; keen eyes 
were constantly on the watch. As we rode down upoi 
the plain, the side of the village nearest us was darkened 
with a crowd of naked figures. Several men came for- 
ward to meet us. I could distinguish among them the 
green blanket of the Frenchman Reynal. When we came 
up the ceremony of shaking hands had to be gone through 
in due form, and then all were eager to know what had 
become of the rest of my party. I satisfied them on this 
point, and we all moved together towards the village. 

" You've missed it," said Eeynal ; " if you'd been here 
day before yesterday, you'd have found the whole prairie 
over yonder black with buffalo as far as you could see. 
There were no cows, though ; nothing but bulls. We 
made a ' surl'ound ' every day till yesterday. See the 
village there; don't that look like good living?" 

In fact I could see, even at that distance, long cords 
stretched from lodge to lodge, over which the meat, cut 
by the squaws into thin sheets, was hanging to dry in the 
sun. I noticed too that the village was somewhat small- 
er than when I had last seen it, and I asked Reynal the 
cause. He said that old Le Borgne had felt too weak to 
pass over the mountains, and so had remained behind 
with all his relations, including Mahto-Tatonka and his 



THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE. 191 

brothers. The Whirlwind too had been unwilling to 
oome so far, because, as Reynal said, he was afraid. 
Only half a dozen lodges had adhered to him, the maip 
body of the' village setting their chief's authority a^ 
naught, and taking the course most agreeable to thei 
inclinations. 

" What chiefs are there in the village now?" asked I. 

" Well," said Reynal, " there's old Red- Water, and th< 
Eagle-Feather, and the Big Crow, and the Mad Wolf, and 
The Panther, and the White-Shield, and — what's hi; 
name? — the half-breed Shienne." 

By this time we were close to the village, and Tob 
served that while the greater part of the lodges were verj 
large and neat in their appearance, there was at one sid( 
a cluster of squalid, miserable huts. I looked toward; 
them, and made some remark about their wretched ap 
pearance. But I was touching upon delicate ground. 

" My squaw's relations live in those lodges," said Re} 
nal, very warmly ; " and there isn't a better set in th* 
whole village." 

" Are there any chiefs among them ? " 

" Chiefs ? " said Reynal ; " yes, plenty ! " 

" What are their names ? " 

" Their names ? Why, there's the Arrow-Head. 1.' 
he isn't a chief he ought to be one. And there's the 
Hail-Storm. He's nothing but a boy, to be sure ; but he's 
bound to be a chief one of these days." 

Just then we passed between two of the lodges, and 
entered the great area of the village. Superb, naked fig 
ures stood silently gazing on us. 

" Where's the Bad Wound's lodge ? " said I to Reynal. 

" There you've missed it again I The Bad Wound in 
away with The Whirlwind. If you could have found him 
here, and gone to live in his lodge, he would have treated 



192 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

you better than any man in the village. But there's the 
Big Crow's lodge yonder, next to old Red- Water's. He's 
a good Indian for the whites, and I advise you to go and 
live with him." 

" Are there many squaws and children in his lodge ? " 
said I. 

" No ; only one squaw and two or three children. He 
keeps the rest in a separate lodge by themselves." 

So, still followed by a crowd of Indians, Raymond and 
I rode up to the entrance of the Big Crow's lodge. A 
squaw came out immediately and took our horses. I put 
aside the leather flap that covered the low opening, and 
stooping, entered the Big Crow's dwelling. There I could 
see the chief in the dim light, seated at one side, on a pile 
of buffalo-robes. He greeted me with a guttural " How, 
col^!" I requested Reynal to tell him that Raymond 
and I were come to live with him. The Big Crow gave 
another low exclamation. The announcement may seem 
intrusive, but, in fact, every Indian in the village would 
have deemed himself honored that white men should give 
such preference to his hospitality. 

The squaw spread a buffalo-robe for us in the guest's 
place at the head of the lodge. Our saddles were brought 
in, and scarcely were we seated upon them before the 
place was thronged with Indians, crowding in to see us. 
The Big Crow produced his pipe and filled it with the 
mixture of tobacco and shongsasha, or red willow bark. 
Round and round it passed,, and a lively conversation went 
forward. Meanwhile a squaw placed before the two guests 
a wooden bowl of boiled buffalo-meat ; but unhappily this 
was not the only banquet destined to be inflicted on us. 
One after another, boys and young squaws thrust their 
heads in at the opening, to invite us to various feasts in 
different parts of the village. For half an hour or more 



THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE. 193 

we were actively engaged in passing from lodge to lodge, 
tasting in each of the bowl of meat set before us, and 
inhaling a whiff or two from our entertainer's pipe. A 
thunder-storm that had been threatening for some time 
now began in good earnest. We crossed over to Rey- 
nal's lodge, though it hardly deserved the name, for it 
consisted only of a few old buffalo-robes, supported on 
poles, and was quite open on one side. Here we sat down, 
and the Indians gathered round us. 

" What is it," said I, " that makes the thunder ?" 

" It's my belief," said Reynal, " that it's a big stone 
rolling over the sky." 

" Yery likely," I replied ; " but I want to know what 
the Indians think about it." 

So he interpreted my question, which produced some 
debate. There was a difference of opinion. At last old 
Mene-Seela, or Red-Water, who sat by himself at one 
side, looked up with his withered face, and said he had 
always known what the thunder was. It was a great 
black bird ; and once he had seen it, in a dream, swoop- 
ing down from the Black Hills, with its loud roaring 
wings ; and when it flapped them over a lake, they struck 
lightning from the water. 

" The thunder is bad," said another old man, who sat 
muffled in his buffalo-robe ; " be killed my brother last 
summer." 

Reynal, at my request, asked for an explanation ; but 
the old man remained doggedly silent, and would not 
look up. Some time after, I learned how the accident 
occurred. The man who was killed belonged to an asso- 
ciation which, among other mystic functions, claimed the 
exclusive power and privilege of fighting the thunder. 
Whenever a storm which they wished to avert was threat- 
ening, the thunder-fighters would take their bows and 

13 



194 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

aTows, tlieir guns, their magic drum, and a sort ol 
wiiistle, made out of the wing-bone of the war-eagle, and, 
thus equipped, run out and fire at the rising cloud, whooi> 
ing, yelling, whistling, and beating their drum, to frighten 
it down again. One afternoon, a heavy black cloud was 
coming up, and they repaired to the top of a hill, where 
they brought all their magic artillery into play against it. 
But the undaunted thunder, refusing to be terrified 
darted out a bright flash, which struck one of the party 
dead as he was in the very act of shaking his long iron- 
pointed lance against it. The rest scattered and ran yelling 
in an ecstasy of superstitious terror back to tlieir lodges. 
The lodge of my host Kongra Tonga, or the Big Crow, 
presented a picturesque spectacle that evening. A score 
or more of Indians were seated around it in a circle, their 
dark naked forms just visible by the dull light of the 
smouldering fire in the middle. The pipe glowed brightly 
in the gloom as it passed from hand to hand. Then a 
squaw would drop a piece of buffalo-fat on the dull em- 
bers. Instantly a bright flame would leap up, darting its 
light to the very apex of the tall conical structure, where 
the tops of the slender poles that supported the covering 
of hide were gathered together. It gilded the features 
of the Indians, as with animated gestures they sat around 
it, telling their endless stories of war and hunting, and 
displayed rude garments of skins that hung around the 
lodge ; the bow, quiver, and lance, suspended over the 
resting-place of the chief, and the rifles and powder-horns 
of the two white guests. For a moment all would be 
bright as day ; then the flames would die out ; fitful 
flashes from the embers would illumine the lodge, and 
then leave it in darkness. Then the light would wholly 
fade, and the lodge and all within it be involved again in 
obscurity. 



THE OGILLALLAH TILLAGE. 195 

As I left the lodge next morning, I was saluted by 
lowling and yelping all around the village, and half its 
canine population rushed forth to the attack. Being as 
cowardly as they were clamorous, they kept jumping 
about me at the distance of a few yards, only one little 
cur, about ten inches long, having spirit enough to make 
a direct assault. He dashed valiantly at the leather tassel 
which in the Dahcotah fashion was trailing behind the 
heel of my moccasin, and kept his hold, growling and 
snarling all the while, though every step I made almost 
jerked him over on his back. As I knew that the eyes 
of the whole village were on the watch to see if I showed 
any sign of fear, I walked forward without looking to the 
right or left, surrounded wherever I went by this magic 
circle of dogs. When I came to Reynal's lodge I sat 
down by it, on which the dogs dispersed growling to their 
respective quarters. Only one large white one remained, 
running about before me and showing his teeth. I called 
him, but he only growled the more. I looked at him 
well. He was fat and sleek ; just such a dog as I wanted. 
'' My friend," thought I, " you shall pay for this ! I will 
^ave you eaten this very morning ! " 

I intended that day to give the Indians a feast, by way 
Df conveying a favorable impression of my character and 
dignity ; and a white dog is the dish which the customs 
of the Dahcotah prescribe for all occasions of formality 
and importance. I consulted Reynal : he soon discovered 
that an old woman in the next lodge was owner of the 
white dog. I took a gaudy cotton handkerchief, and, 
laying it on the ground, arranged some vermilion, beads, 
and other trinkets upon it. Then the old squaw was sum- 
moned. I pointed to the dog and to the handkerchief. 
She gave a scream of delight, snatched up the prize, and 
vanished with it into her lodge. For a few more trifles, 



196 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

I engaged the services of two other squaws, each of whom 
took the white dog by one of his paws, and led liim away 
behind the lodges. Having killed him they threw him 
into a fire to singe ; then chopped him up and put him 
into two large kettles to boil. Meanwhile I told Raymond 
to fry in buffalo fat what little flour we had left, and also 
to make a kettle of tea as an additional luxury. 

The Big Crow's squaw was briskly at work sweeping 
out the lodge for the approaching festivity. I confided 
to my host himself the task of inviting the guests, think 
ing that I might thereby shift from my own shoulders the 
odium of neglect and oversight. 

When feasting is in question, one hour of the day serves 
an Indian as well as- another. My entertainment came off 
at about eleven o'clock. At that hour, Reynal and Ray- 
mond walked across the area of the village, to the admi- 
ration of the inhabitants, carrying the two kettles of dog 
meat slung on a pole between them. These they placed 
in the centre of the lodge, and then went back for the 
bread and the tea. Meanwhile I had put on a pair of 
brilliant moccasins, and substituted for my old buckskin 
frock a coat which I had brought with me in view of such 
public occasions. I also made careful use of the razor, 
an operation which no man will neglect who desires to 
gain the good opinion of Indians. Thus attired, I seated 
myself between Reynal and Raymond at the head of the 
lodge. Only a few minutes elapsed before all the guests 
had come in and were seated on the ground, wedged to- 
gether in a close circle. Each brought with him a wooden 
bowl to hold his share of the repast. When all were 
assembled, two of the officials called, " soldiers " by the 
white men, came forward with ladles made of the horn 
of the Rocky Mountain sheep, and began to distribute the 
feast, assigning a double share to the old men and chiefs 



THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE. 19" 

The dog vanished with astonishing celerit}^, and eacli 
guest turned his dish bottom upward to show that all was 
gone. Then the bread was distributed in its turn, and 
finallj the tea. As the " soldiers " poured it out into the 
same wooden bowls that had served for the substantial 
part of the meal, I thought it had a particularly curious 
and miinviting color. 

" Oh," said Reynal, " there was not tea enough, so 1 
stirred some soot in the kettle, to make it look strong." 

Fortunately an Indian's palate is not very discriminat- 
ing. The tea was well sweetened, and that was all they 
cared for. 

Now, the feast being over, the time for speech-making 
was come. The Big Crow produced a flat piece of wood 
on which he cut up tobacco and shongsasha, and mixed 
them in due proportions. The pipes were filled and 
passed from hand to hand around the company. Then 
I began my speech, each sentence being interpreted by 
Reynal as I went on, and echoed by the whole audience 
with the usual exclamations of assent and approval. As 
nearly as I can recollect, it was as follows : — 

"I had come," I told them, "from a country so far 
distant, that at the rate they travel, they could not reach 
it in a year." 

"How! how!" 

" There the Meneaska were more numerous than the 
blades of grass on the prairie. The squaws were far more 
beautiful than any they had ever seen, and all the men 
were brave warriors." 

"Ho^v! how! how!" 

I was assailed by twinges of conscience as I uttered 
these last words. But I recovered myself and began 
again. 

" While I was living in the Meneaska lodges, T had 



198 



THE OREGON TRAIL. 



heard of the Ogillallah, how great and brave a nation the)' 
were, how they loved the whites, and how well tliey could 
hunt the buffalo and strike their enemies. I resolved to 
come and see if all that I heard was true." 
" How ! how ! how ! how ! " 

" As I had come on horseback through the mountains^ 
I had been able to bring them only a very few presents.*' 
. "How!" 

" But I h^d enough tobacco to give them all a small 
piece. They might smoke it and see how much better it 
was than the tobacco which they got from the traders." 
" How ! how ! how ! " 

" I had plenty of powder, lead, knives, and tobacco at 
Fort Laramie. These I was anxious to give them, and 
if any of them should come to the fort before I went away, 
T would make them handsome presents." 
" How ! how ! how ! how ! " 

Raymond then cut up and distributed among them two 
or three pounds of tobacco, and old Mene-Seela began to 
make a reply. It was long, but the followhig was the 
pith of it. 

" He had always loved the whites. They were tho 
wisest people on earth. He believed they could do any 
thing, and he was always glad when any of them came to 
live in the Ogillallah lodges. It was true I had not made 
them many presents, but the reason of it was plain. It 
was clear that I liked them, or I never should have come 
80 far to find their village." 

Several other speeches of similar import followed, and 
then this more serious matter being disposed of, there waa 
an interval of smoking, laughing, and conversation. Old 
Mene-Seela suddenly interrupted it with a loud voice : — 
" Now is a good time," he said, " when all the old men 
and chiefs are here together, to decide what the neonle 



THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE. 199 

Bfiall do. We came over the mountains to make our 
lodges for next year. Our old ones are good for nothing , 
they are rotten and worn out. But we have been disap- 
pointed. We have killed buffalo-bulls enough, but we 
have found no herds of cows, and the skins of bulls are 
boo thick and heavy for our squaws to make lodges of. 
There must be plenty of cows about the Medicine Bow 
Mountain. We ought to go there. To be sure it is far- 
ther westward than we have ever been before, and perhaps 
the Snakes will attack us, for those hunting-grounds 
belong to them. But we must have new lodges at any 
rate ; our old ones will not serve for another year. We 
ought not to be afraid of the Snakes. Our warriors are 
brave, and they are all ready for war. Besides, we have 
three white men with their rifles to help us." 

This speech produced a good deal of debate. As Rey- 
nal did not interpret what was said, I could only judge 
of the meaning by the features and gestures of the 
speakers. At the end of it however the greater number 
seemed to have fallen in with Mene-Seela's opinion. A 
short silence followed, and then the old man struck up a 
discordant chant, which I was told was a song of thanks 
for the entertainment I had given them. 

" Now," said he, " let us go and give the white men a 
chance to breathe." 

So the company all dispersed into the open air, and foi 
some time the old chief was walking round the village, 
singing his song in praise of the feast, after the custom 
of the nation. 

At last tlie day drew to a close, and as the sun went 
down the horses came trooping from the surrounding 
plains to be picketed before the dwellings of their respec- 
tive masters. Soon within the great circle of lodges ap- 
peared another concentric circle of restless 'horses ; and 



200 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

here and there fires glowed and flickered amid the gloom 
on the dusky figures around them. I went over and sat 
by the lodge of Reynal. The Eagle-Feather, who was a 
son of Mene-Seela, and brother of my host the Big Crow, 
was seated there already, and 1 asked him if the village 
would move in the morning. He shook his head, and 
said that nobody could tell, for since old Mahto-Tatonka 
had died, the people had been like children that did not 
know their own minds. They were no better than a body 
without a head. So I, as well as the Indians themselves, 
fell asleep that night without knowing whether we should 
set out in the morning towards the country of the Snakes. 
At daybreak however, as I was coming up from the 
river after my morning's ablutions, I saw that a move- 
ment was contemplated. Some of the lodges were re- 
duced to nothing but bare skeletons of poles ; the leather 
covering of others was flapping in the wind as the squaws 
pulled it off. One or two chiefs of note had resolved, it 
seemed, on moving ; and so having set their squaws 
at work, the example was followed by the rest of the 
village. One by one the lodges were sinking down in 
rapid succession, and where the great circle of the village 
had been only a few moments before, nothing now re- 
mained but a ring of horses and Indians, crowded in 
confusion together. The ruins of the lodges were spread 
over the ground, together with kettles, stone mallets, 
great ladles of horn, buffalo-robes, and cases of painted 
hide, filled with dried meat. Squaws bustled about in 
busy preparation, the old hags screaming to one another 
at the stretch of their leathern lungs. The shaggy horses 
were patiently standing while the lodge-poles were lashed 
to their sides, and the baggage piled upon their backs. 
The dogs, with tongues lolling out, lay lazily panting, and 
waiting for the time of departure. Each warrior sat on 



THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE. 201 

ghe ground by the decaTing embers of his fire, unmoved 
amid the confusion, holding in his hand the long trail- 
rope of his horse. 

As their preparations were completed, each family 
moved off the ground. The crowd was rapidly melting 
away. I could see them crossing the river, and passing 
in quick succession along the profile of the hill on the 
farther side. When all were gone, I mounted and set out 
after them, followed by Raymond, and, as we gained the 
summit, the whole village came in view at once, strag- 
gling away for a mile or more over the barren plains before 
us. Everywhere glittered the iron points of lances. The 
sun never shone upon a more strange array. Here were 
the heavy-laden pack-horses, some wretched old woman 
leading them, and two or three children clinging to their 
backs. Here were mules or ponies covered from head to 
tail with gaudy trappings, and mounted by some gaj 
young squaw, grinning bashfulness and pleasure as the 
Meneaska looked at her. Boys with miniature bows and 
arrows wandered over the plains, little naked children ran 
along on foot, and numberless dogs scampered among the 
feet of the horses. The young braves, gaudy with paint 
and feathers, rode in groups among the crowd, often gal- 
loping, two or three at once along the line, to try the 
speed of their horses. Here and there you might see 
a rank of sturdy pedestrians stalking along in their white 
buffalo-robes. These were the dignitaries of the village, 
the old men and warriors, to whose age and experience 
that wandering democracy yielded a silent deference. 
With the rough prairie and the broken hills for its back- 
ground, the restless scene was striking and picturesque 
beyond description. Days and weeks made me familiar 
vvith it, but never impaired its effect upon my fancy. 

As we moved on, the broken column grew yet more 



202 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

scattered and disorderly, until, as we approached the foot 
of a hill, I saw the old men before mentioned seating 
themselves in a line upon the ground, in advance of the 
whole. They lighted a pipe and sat smoking, laughing, 
and telling stories, while the people, stopping as they 
successively came up, were soon gathered in a crowd 
behind them. Then the old men rose, drew their buffalo- 
robes over their shoulders, and strode on as before. 
Gaining the top of the hill, we found a steep declivity 
before us. There was not a minute's pause. The whole 
descended in a mass, amid dust and confusion. The 
horses braced their feet as they slid down, women and 
children screamed, dogs yelped as they were trodden upon, 
while stones and earth went rolling to the bottom. In 
a few moments I could see the village from the summit, 
spreading again far and wide over the plain below. 

At our encampment that afternoon I was attacked 
anew by my old disorder. In half an hour the strength 
that I had been gaining for a week past had vanished 
again, and I became like a man in a dream. But at 
sunset I lay down in the Big Crow's lodge and slept, 
totally unconscious till the morning. The first thing 
that awakened me was a hoarse flapping over my head, 
and a sudden light that poured in upon me. The camp 
was breaking up, and the squaws were moving the cover- 
ing from the lodge. I arose and shook off my blanket 
with the feeling of perfect health ; but scarcely had I 
gained my feet when a sense of my helpless condition 
was once more forced upon me, and I found myself 
scarcely able to stand. Raymond had brought up Paul- 
ine and the mule, and I stooped to raise my saddle from 
the ground. My strength was unequal to the task. " You 
must saddle her," said 1 to Raymond, as I sat down 
again on a pile of buffalo-robes. He did so, and with 



THE OGILLALIAH VILLAGE. 203 

a painful effort I mounted. As we were passing over 
a great plain, surrounded by long broken ridges, 1 
rode' slowly in advance of the Indians with thoughts 
that wandered far from the time and the place. Sud- 
denly the sky darkened, and thunder began to mutter. 
Clouds were rising over the hills, as dark as the first 
forebodings of an approaching calamity ; and in a mo* 
ment all around was wrapped in shadow. I looked 
behind. The Indians had stopped to prepare for the 
approaching storm, and the dense mass of savages 
stretched far to the right and left. Since the first ai> 
tack of my disorder the effects of rain upon me had 
usually been injurious in the extreme. I had no strength 
to spare, having at that moment scarcely enough to keep 
my seat on horseback. Then, for the first time, it pressed 
upon me as a strong probability that I might never leave 
those deserts. " Well," thought I to myself, " the prairie 
makes quick and sharp work. Better to die here, in the 
saddle to the last, than to stifle in the hot air of a sick 
chamber ; and a thousand times better than to drag out 
life, as many have done, in the helpless inaction of linger- 
ing disease." So, drawing the buffalo-robe on which I 
sat, over my head, I waited till the storm should come. 
It broke at last with a sudden burst of fury, and passing 
away as rapidly as it came, left the sky clear again. My 
reflections served me no other purpose than to look back 
upon as a piece of curious experience ; for the rain did 
not produce the ill effects that I had expected. We en- 
camped within an hour. Having no change of clothes, I 
contrived to borrow a curious kind of substitute from 
Reynal , and this done, I went home, that is, to the Big 
Crow's lodge, to make the entire transfer that was neces- 
sary. Half a dozen squaws were in the lodge, and one of 
them taking my arm held it against her own, while a geii 



'i04 THE OREGON TRilL. 

cral laugh and scream of, admiration was raised at the 
contrast in the color of the skin. 

Our encampment that afternoon was not far from a spur 
of the Black Hills, whose ridges, bristling with fir trees, 
rose from the plains a mile or two oit our right. That 
they might move more rapidly towards their proposed 
hunting-grounds, the Indians determined to leave at this 
place their stock of dried meat and other superfluous 
articles. Some left even their lodges, and contented 
themselves with carrying a few hides to make a shelter 
from the sun and rain. Half the inhabitants set out 
in the afternoon, with loaded pack-horses, towards the 
mountains. Here they suspended the dried meat upon 
trees, where the wolves and grizzly bears could not get 
at it. All returned at evening. Some of the young men 
declared that they had heard the reports of guns among 
the mountains to the eastward, and many surmises were 
throAvn out as to the origin of these sounds. For my 
part, I was in hopes that Shaw and Henry Chatillon were 
coming to join us. I little suspected that at that very 
moment my unlucky comrade was lying on a buffalo-robe 
at Fort Laramie, fevered with ivy poison, and solacing his 
woes with tobacco and Shakspeare. 

As we moved over the plains on the next morning, 
several young men rode about the country as scouts ; and 
at length we began to sec them occasionally on the tops 
of the hills, shaking their robes as a signal that they saw 
buffalo. Soon after, some bulls came in sight. Horse- 
men darted away in pursuit, and we could see from the 
distance that one or two of the buffalo were killed. Ray- 
mond suddenly became inspired. 

•'This is the country for me!" he said; "if I could 
"jnly carry the buffalo that are killed here every month 
3 own ^.o St. Louis, I'd make my fortime in one winter 



THE OGILL ALLAH VILLAGE. 205 

I'd grow as rich as old Papin, or Mackenzie either. 1 
call this the poor man's market. When I'm hungry, I've 
only got to take my rifle and go out and get better meal 
than the rich folks down below can get, with all their 
money. You won't catch me living in St. Louis another 
winter.'' 

" No," said Reynal, " you had better say that, after 
you and your Spanish woman almost starved to death 
there. What a fool you were ever to take her to the 
settlements ! " 

" Your Spanish woman ? " said I ; " I never heard of 
lier before. Are you married to her ? " 

" No," answered Raymond, " the priests don't marry 
their women, and why should I marry mine ?" 

This honorable mention of the Mexican clergy intro- 
duced the subject of religion, and I found that my two 
associates, in common with other white men in that coun- 
try, were as indifferent to their future welfare as men 
whose lives are in constant peril are apt to be. Raymond 
had never heard of the Pope. A certain bishop, who 
lived at Taos or at Santa Fe, embodied his loftiest idea of 
an ecclesiastical dignitary. Reynal observed that a priest 
had been at Fort Laramie two years ago, on his way to 
the Nez Perce mission, and that he had confessed all 
the men there, and given them absolution. '' I got a 
good clearing out myself, that time," said Reynal, " and 
I reckon that will do for me till I go down to the settle- 
ments again." 

Here lie interrupted himself with an oath, and ex- 
claimed : " Look ! look ! The ' Panther ' is running 
an antelope ! " 

The Panther, on his black-and-white horse, one of the 
best in the village, came at full speed over the hill in hot 
pursuit of an antelope, that darted away like lightning 



206 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

before him. The attempt was made in mere sport and 
bravado, for very few are the horses that can for a mo- 
ment compete in swiftness with this little animal. The 
antelope ran down the hill towards the main body of the 
Indians, who were moving over the plain below. Sharp 
yells were given, and horsemen galloped ont to intercept 
his flight. At this he turned sharply to the left, and 
scoured away with such speed that he distanced all his 
pursuers, even the vaunted horse of The Panther himself. 
A few moments after, we witnessed a more serious sport. 
A shaggy huffalo-bull bounded out from a neighboring 
hollow, and close behind him came a slender Indian boy, 
riding without stirrups or saddle, and lashing his eager 
little horse to full speed. Yard after yard he drew closer 
to his gigantic victim, though the bull, with his short tail 
^ erect and his tongue lolling out a foot from his foaming 
jaws, was straining his unwieldy strength to the utmost. 
A moment more, and the boy was close alongside. It 
w^as our friend the Hail-Storm. He dropped the rein on 
his horse's neck, and jerked an arrow like lightning from 
the quiver at his shoulder. 

" I tell you," said Reynal, " that in a year's time that 
boy will match the best hunter in the village. There, he 
has given it to him ! — and there goes another ! You 
feel well, now, old bull, don't you, with two arrows stuck 
in your lights ! There, he has given him another I Hear 
how the Hail-Storm yells when he shoots ! Yes, jump at 
him ; try it again, old fellow ! You may jump aU day 
before you get your horns into that pony ! " 

The bull sprang again and again at his assailant, but 
the horse kept dodging with wonderful celerity. At length 
the bull followed up his attack with a furious rush, and the 
Hail-Storm was put to flight, the shaggy monster follow- 
mg close behind. The boy clung in his seat like a leech, 



THE OGILLALLAH TILLAGE. 907 

and secure in the speed of his little pony, looked round 
towards us and laughed. In a moment he was again 
alongside the bull who was now driven to desperation. 
Flis eyeballs glared through his tangled mane, and the 
blood flew from his mouth and nostrils. Thus, still bat- 
tling with each other, the two enemies disappeared ovei 
the hill. 

Many of the Indians rode at full gallop towards the 
spot. We followed at a more moderate pace, and soon 
saw the bull lying dead on the side of the hill. The 
Indians were gathered around him, and several knives 
were already at work. These little instruments were 
plied with such wonderful address, that the twisted sinews 
were cut apart, the ponderous bones fell asunder as if by 
magic, and in a moment the vast carcass was reduced to 
a heap of bloody ruins. The surrounding group of *^ 
savages offered no very attractive spectacle to a civilized 
eye. Some were cracking the huge thigh-bones and de 
vouring the marrow within ; others were cutting away 
pieces of the liver, and other approved morsels, and swal- 
lowing them on the spot with the appetite of wolves. 
The faces of most of them, besmeared with blood from 
ear to ear, looked grim and horrible enough. My friend 
the White Shield proffered me a marrow-bone, so skilfully 
laid open, that all the rich substance within was exposed 
to view at once. Another Indian held out a large piece 
of the delicate lining of the paunch ; but these courteous 
offerings I begged leave to decline. I noticed one little 
boy who was very busy with his knife about the jaws and 
throat of the buffalo, from which he extracted some 
morsel of peculiar delicacy. It is but fair to say, thai 
only certain parts of the animal are considered eligible 
in these extempore banquets. 
We encamped that night,and marched westward through 



20« THE OREGON TRAIL. 

the greater part of the following day. On the next morn- 
ing we again resumed our journey. It was the seven- 
teenth of July, unless my note-book misleads me. At 
noon we stopped by some pools of rain-water, and in the 
afternoon again set forward. This double movement was 
contrary to the usual practice of the Indians, but all were 
very anxious to reach the hunting-ground, kill the neces- 
sary number of buffalo, and retreat as soon as possible 
from the dangerous neighborhood. I pass by for the pre- 
sent some curious incidents that occurred during these 
marches and encampments. Late in the afternoon of 
the last-mentioned day we came upon the banks of a little 
sandy stream, of which the Indians could not tell the 
name ; for they were very ill acquainted with that part 
of the country. So parched and arid were the prairies 
around, that they could not supply grass enough for the 
horses to feed upon, and we were compelled to move far- 
ther and farther up the stream in search of ground for 
encampment. The country was much wilder than before. 
The plains were gashed with ravines and broken intc 
hollows and steep declivities, which flanked our course, 
as, in long scattered array, the Indians advanced up the 
side of the stream. Mene-Seela consulted an extraordi- 
nary oracle to instruct him where the buffalo were to be 
found. When he with the other chiefs sat down on the 
grass to smoke and converse, as they often did during the 
march, the old man picked up one of those enormous 
olack and green crickets, which the Dahcotah call by a 
name that signifies " They who point out the buffalo." 
The " Root-Diggers," a wretched tribe beyond the moun- 
tains, turn them to good account by making thefti into a 
sort of soup, pronounced by certain unscrupulous trap- 
pers to be extremely rich. Holding the bloated insect 
respectfully between his fingers and thumb, the old Indian 



THE OGILLALLaH TILLAGE. 209 

looked attentively at him and inquired, " Tell me, my 
father, where must we go to-morrow to find the buffalo ? " 
The cricket twisted about his long horns in evident em- 
barrassment. At last he pointed, or seemed to point, 
them westward. Mene-Seela, dropping him gently on the 
grass, laughed with great glee, and said that if we went 
that way in the morning we should be sure to kill plenty 
©f game. 

Towards evening we came upon a fresh green meadow, 
traversed by the stream, and deep-set among tall sterile 
bluffs. The Indians descended its steep bank ; and as 1 
was at the rear, I was one of the last to reach this point. 
Lances were glittering, feathers fluttering, and the water 
below me was crowded with men and horses passing 
through, while the meadow beyond swarmed with the 
restless crowd of Indians. The sun was just setting, 
and poured its softened light upon them through an 
opening in the hills. 

I remarked to Eeynal, that at last we had found a good 
'camping-ground. 

^ " Oh, it's very good,'^ replied he, ironically, " especially 
if there is a Snake war-party about, and they take it into 
their heads to shoot down at us from the top of these 
hills. It's no plan of mine, 'camping in such a hole as 
this." 

The Indians also seemed anxious. High up on the 
top of the tallest bluff, conspicuous in the bright even- 
ing sunlight, sat a naked warrior on horseback, look- 
ing around over the neighboring country ; and Raymond 
told me that many of the young men had gone out in dif- 
ferent directions as scouts. 

Tlie shadows had reached to the very summit of the 
bluffs before the lodges were erected, and the village re- 
duced again to quiet and order. A cry was suddenly 

14 



1210 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

raised, and men, women, and children came running om 
with animated faces, and looked eagerly through the 
opening in the hills by which the stream entered from 
the westward. I could discern afar off some dark, heavy 
masses, passing over the sides of a low hill. Tliey dis- 
appeared, and then others followed. These were bands 
of buffalo-cows. The hunting-ground was readied at 
last, and every thing promised well for the morrow's 
chase. Being fatigued and exhausted, I lay down in 
Kongra-Tonga's lodge, when Raymond thrust in his head, 
and called upon me to come and see some sport. A 
number of Indians were gathered, laughing, along the 
line of lodges on the western side of the village, and at 
some distance, I could plainly see in the twilight two 
huge black monsters stalking, heavily and solemnly, di- 
rectly towards us. They were bufifalo-buUs. The wind 
blew from them to the village, and such was their blind- 
ness and stupidity, that they were advancing upon the 
enemy without the least consciousness of his presence. 
Raymond told me that two young men had hidden them- 
selves with guns in a ravine about twenty yards in front 
of us. The two bulls walked slowly on, heavily swing- 
ing from side to side in their peculiar gait of stupid 
dignity. They approached within four or five rods of 
the ravine where the Indians lay in ambush. Here at 
last they seemed conscious that something was wrong, 
for they both stopped and stood perfectly still, without 
looking either to the right or to the left. Nothing of 
them was to be seen but two black masses of shaggy 
mane, with horns, eyes, and nose in the centre, and a 
pair of hoofs visible at the bottom. At last the more in- 
telligent of them seemed to have concluded that it was 
time to retire. Very slowly, and with an air of the 
gravest and most majestic deliberation, he began to turn 



THE OGILLALLAH VILLAGE. 211 

ronnd, as if he were revolving on a pivot. Little by little 
his ugly brown side was exposed to view. A white smoke 
sprang out, as it were from the ground ; a sharp report 
came with it. The old bull gave a very undignified 
jump, and galloped ofF. At this his comrade wheeled 
about with considerable expedition. The other Indian 
shot at him from the ravine, and then both the bulls ran 
away at full speed, while half the juvenile population oi 
the village raised a yell and ran after them. The first 
bull soon stopped, and while the crowd stood looking at 
him at. a respectful distance, he reeled and rolled over on 
his side. The other, wounded in a less vital part, gal- 
loped away to the hills and escaped. 

In half an hour it was totally dark. I lay down to 
sleep, and ill as I was, there was something very ani- 
mating in the prospect of the general hunt that was to 
take place on the morrow. 



CHAPTER XV. 

THE HUNTING CAMP. 

T ONG before daybreak the Indians broke up their camp. 
-■— ' The women of Mene-Seela's lodge were as usual 
among the first that were ready for departure, and ] 
found the old man himself sitting by the embers of the 
decayed fire, over which he was warming his withered 
fingers, as the morning was very chill and damp. The 
preparations for moving were even more confused and dis 
orderly than usual. While some families were leaving the 
ground the lodges of others were still standing untouched 
At this old Mene-Seela grew impatient, and walking out to 
the middle of the village, he stood with his robe wrapped 
close around him, and harangued the people in a loud, 
sharp voice. Now, he said, when they were on an 
enemy's hunting-grounds, was not the time to behave 
like children ; they ouglit to be more active and united 
than ever. His speech had some effect. The delinquents 
took down their lodges and loaded their pack-horses ; 
and when the sun rose, the last of the men, women, and 
children had left the deserted camp. 

This movement was made merely for the purpose of 
finding a better and safer position. So we advanced only 
three or four miles up the little stream, when each family 
assumed its relative place in the great ring of the village, 
and the squaws set actively at work in preparing the 
camp. But not a single warrior dismounted from his 



THE HUNTING CAIVIP. 213 

horse. Ail the men that morning were mounted on 
inlerior animals, leading their best horses by a cord, or 
confiding them to the care of boys. In small parties 
they* began to leave the ground and ride rapidly away 
OTcr the plains to the westward. 1 had taken no food, 
and not being at all ambitious of farther abstinence, 1 
went into my host's lodge, which liis squaws had set up 
with wonderful despatch, and sat down in the centre, as 
a gentle hint that I was hungry. A wooden bowl was 
soon set before me, filled with the nutritious preparation 
of dried meat, called pemmican by the northern voyagers, 
and wasna by the Dahcotah. Taking a handful to break 
my fast upon, I left the lodge just in time to see the last 
band of hunters disappear over the ridge of the neighboring 
hill. I mounted Pauline and galloped in pursuit, riding 
rather by the balance than by any muscular strength that 
remained to me. From the top of the hill I could over- 
look a wide extent of desolate prairie, over which, far 
and near, little parties of naked horsemen were rapidly 
passing. I soon came up to the nearest, and we had not 
ridden a mile before all were united into one large and 
compact body. All was haste and eagerness. Each 
hunter whipped on his horse, as if anxious to be the first 
to reach the game. In such movements among the In 
dians this is always more or less the case ; but it was 
especially so in the present instance, because the liead 
chief of the village was absent, and there were but few 
^* sold?iers," a sort of Indian police, who among their 
other functions usually assume the direction of a buffalo 
hunt. No man turned to the right hand or to the left. 
We rode at a swift canter straight forward, up hill and 
down hill, and through the stiff, obstinate growth of the 
endless wild -sage bushes. For an hour and a half the 
same red shoulders, the same long black hair rose and 



214 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

fell with the motion of the horses before me. Very little 
was said, though once I observed an old man severely 
reproving Raymond for having left his rifle behind him, 
when there was some probability of encountering an 
enemy before the day was over. As we galloped across 
a plain thickly set with sage bushes, the foremost riders 
vanished suddenly from sight, as if diving into the earth. 
The arid soil was cracked into a deep ravine. Down 
we all went in succession and galloped in a line along 
the bottom, until we found a point where, one by one, 
the horses could scramble out. Soon after, we came 
upon a wide shallow stream, and as we rode swiftly over 
the hard sand-beds and through the thin sheets of rip- 
pling water, many of the savage horsemen threw them- 
selves to the ground, knelt on the sand, snatched a hasty 
draught, and leaping back again to their seats, galloped 
on as before. 

Meanwhile scouts kept in advance of the party ; and 
now we began to see them on the ridges of the hills, wav- 
ing their robes in token that buffalo were visible. These 
however proved to be nothing more than old straggling 
bulls, feeding upon the neighboring plains, who would 
stare for a moment at the hostile array and then gallop 
clumsily off. At length we could discern several of these 
scouts making their signals to us at once ; no longer wav 
ing their robes boldly from the top of the hill, but standing 
lower down, so that they could not be seen from the plains 
beyond. Game worth pursuing had evidently been dis- 
covered. The excited Indians now urged forward then 
tired horses even more rapidly than before. Pauline, who 
was still sick and jaded, began to groan heavily ; and her 
yellow sides were darkened with sweat. As we were 
crowding together over a lower intervening hill, I heard 
Reynal and Raymond shouting to me from the left ; and, 



THE HUNTING CAMP. 215 

looking ill that direction, I saw them riding away behind 
a party of about twenty mean-looking Indians. These 
were tlie relatives of Reynal's squaw, Margot, who, not 
wishing to take part in the general hunt, were riding 
towards a distant hollow, where they saw a small band 
of buffalo which they meant to appropriate to them- 
selves. I answered to the call by ordering Raymond to 
turn back and follow me. He reluctantly obeyed, though 
Reynal, who had relied on his assistance in skinning, cu1> 
ting up, and carrying to camp the buffalo that he and his 
party should kill, loudly protested, and declared that we 
should see no sport if we went with the rest of the Indians. 
Followed by Raymond, I pursued the main body of hunters, 
while Reynal, in a great rage, whipped his horse over the 
hill after his ragamuffin relatives. The Indians, still 
about a hundred in number, galloped in a dense body at 
some distance in advance, a cloud of dust flying in the 
wind behind them. I could not overtake them until they 
had stopped on the side of the hill where the scouts were 
standing. Here each hunter sprang in haste from the 
tired animal he had ridden, and leaped upon the fresh 
horse he had brought with him. There was not a saddle 
or a bridle in the whole party. A piece of buffalo-robe, 
girthed over the horse's back, served in the place of the 
one, and a cord of twisted hair, lashed round his lower 
jaw, answered for the other. Eagle feathers dangled from 
every mane and tail, as marks of courage and speed. As 
for the rider, he wore no other clothing than a light cinc- 
ture at his waist, and a pair of moccasins. He had a 
heavy whip, with a handle of solid elk-horn, and a lasii 
of knotted bull-hide, fastened to his wrist by a band. His 
bow was in his hand, and his quiver of otter or panther 
skin hung at his shoulder. Thus equipped, some thirty 
of the hunters galloped away towards the left, in order to 



216 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

make a circuit under cover of the hills, that the buflalci 
might be assailed on both sides at once. The rest im- 
patiently waited until time enough had elapsed for their 
companions to reach the required position. Then riding 
upward in a body, we gained the ridge of the hill, and fur 
the first time came in sight of the buffalo on the plain 
beyond. 

They were a band of cows, four or five hundred in 
number, crowded together near the bank of a wide stream 
that was soaking across tlie sand-beds of the valley. 
This valley was a large circular basin, sun-scorched and 
broken, scantily covered with herbage, and surrounded 
with high barren hills, from an opening in which we could 
see our allies galloping out upon the plain. The wind 
blew from that direction. The buffalo, aware of their ap- 
proach, had begun to move, though very slowly and in a 
compact mass. I have no farther recollection of seeing 
the game until we were in the midst of them, for as we 
rode down the hill other objects engrossed my attention. 
Numerous old bulls were scattered over the plain, and un- 
gallantly deserting their charge at our approach began to 
wade and plunge through the quicksands of the stream, 
and gallop away towards the hills. One old veteran was 
straggling behind the rest, with one of his fore-legs, which 
had been broken by some accident, dangling about use- 
lessly. His appearance as he went shambling along on 
three legs, was so ludicrous that I could not help pausing 
for a moment to look at him. As I came near, he would 
try to rush upon me, nearly throwing himself down at ev- 
ery awkward attempt. Looking up, 1 saw the wliole body 
of Indians full an hundred yards in advance. I lashed 
Pauline in pursuit and reached them just in time ; for, at 
that moment, each hunter, as if by a common impulse, 
nolently struck his horse, each horse sprang forward, and, 



THE HUNTING CA.MP. 217 

scattering in the charge in order to assail the entire herd 
at once, we all rushed headlong upon the buffalo. We 
were among them in an instant. Amid the trampling 
and the yells I could see their dark figures running hither 
and thither through clouds of dust, and the horsemen 
darting in pursuit. While we were charging on one side, 
our companions attacked the bewildered and panic-stricken 
herd on the other. The uproar and confusion lasted but 
a moment. The dust cleared away, and the buffalo could 
be seen scattering as from a common centre, flying over 
the plain singly, or in long files and small compact bodies, 
while behind them followed the Indians, riding at furious 
speed, and yelling as they launched arrow after arrow into 
their sides. The carcasses were strewn thickly over the 
ground. Here and there stood wounded buffalo, their 
bleeding sides feathered with arrows ; and as I rode by 
them their eyes would glare, they would bristle like gi- 
gantic cats, and feebly attempt to rush up and gore my 
horse. 

I left camp that morning with a philosophic resolution. 
Neither I nor my horse were at that time fit for such 
sport, and I had determined to remain a quiet spectator ; 
but amid the rush of horses and buffalo, the uproar and 
the dust, I found it impossible to sit still ; and as four or 
five buffalo ran past me in a line, I lashed Pauline in pur- 
suit. We went plunging through the water and the quick- 
sands, and clambering the bank, chased them througli 
the wild- sage bushes that covered the rising ground be- 
yond. But neither her native spirit nor the blows of ilie 
knotted bull-hide could supply the place of poor Pauline's 
exhausted strength. We could not gain an inch upon the 
fugitives. At last, however, they came full upon a ravine 
too wide to leap over ; and as this compelled them tc 
turn abruptly to the left, I contrived to get within ten oi 



218 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

twelve yards of the hindmost. At this she faced about, 
bristled angrily, and made a show of charging. I shot at 
her, and hit her somewhere in the neck. Down she 
tumbled into the ravine, whither her companions had 
descended before her. I saw their dark backs appearii,g 
and disappearing as they galloped along the bottom ; then, 
one by one, they scrambled out on the other side, and 
ran off as before, the wounded animal following with the 
rest. 

Turning back, I saw Raymond coming on his black 
mule to meet me ; and as we rode over the field together, 
we counted scores of carcasses lying on the plain, in the 
ravines, and on the sandy bed of the stream. Far away 
in the distance, horsemen and buffalo were still scouring 
along, with clouds of dust rising behind them ; and over 
the sides of the hills long files of the frightened animals 
were rapidly ascending. The hunters began to return. 
The boys, who had held the horses behind the hill, made 
their appearance, and the work of flaying and cutting up 
began in earnest all over the field. I noticed my host 
Kongra-Tonga beyond the stream, just alighting by the 
side of a cow which he had killed. Riding up to him, I 
found him in the act of drawing out an arrow, which, 
with the exception of the notch at the end, had entirely 
disappeared in the animal. I asked him to give it to me, 
and I still retain it as a proof, though by no means the 
most striking one tlmt could be offered, of the force and 
dexterity with which the Indians discharge their arrows. 

The hides and meat were piled upon the horses, and 
the hunters began to leave the ground. Raymond and I, 
too, getting tired of the scene, set out for the village, 
riding straight across the intervening desert. There was 
no path, and as far as I could see, no landmarks sufficient 
to guide us ; but Raymond seemed to have an instinctive 



THE HUNTING CAMP. 219 

I)erception of the point on the horizon towards which we 
ought to direct our course. Antelope were bounding on 
all sides, and as is always the case in the presence of 
buffalo, they seemed to have lost their natural shyness. 
Bands of them would run lightly up the rocky declivities, 
and stand' gazing down upon us from the summit. At 
length we could distinguish the tall white rocks and the old 
pine-trees that, as we well remembered, were just above 
the site of the encampment. Still we could see nothing of 
the camp itself, until, mounting a grassy hill, we saw the 
circle of lodges, dingy with storms and smoke, standing gd 
the plain at our feet. 

I entered the lodge of my host. His squaw instantly 
brought me food and water, and spread a buffalo-robe for 
me to lie upon ; and being much fatigued I lay down and 
fell asleep. In about an hour, the entrance of Kongra- 
Tonga, with his arms smeared with blood to the elbows, 
awoke me ; he sat down in his usual seat, on the left side 
of the lodge. His squaw gave him a vessel of water for 
washing, set before him a bowl of boiled meat, and, as he 
was eating, pulled off his bloody moccasins and placed 
fresh ones on his feet ; then outstretching his limbs, my 
host composed himself to sleep. 

And now the hunters, two or three at a time, came 
rapidly in, and each consigning his horses to the squaws, 
entered his lodge with the air of a man whose day's work 
was done. The squaws flung down the load from the 
burdened horses, and vast piles of meat and hides were 
soon gathered before every lodge. By this time it was 
darkening fast; and the whole village was illumined by 
the glare of fires. All the squaws and children were 
gathered about the piles of meat, exploring them in search 
of the daintiest portions. Some of these they roasted on 
sticks belbre the fires, but often they dispensed with this 



220 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

superfluous operation. Late into the night the fires were 
still glowing upon the groups of feasters engaged in this 
savage banquet around them. 

Several hunters sat down by the fire in Kongra-Tonga's 
lodge to talk over the day's exploits. Among the rest, 
Mene-Seela came in. Though he must have seen full 
eighty winters, he had taken an active share in the day's 
sport. He boasted that he had killed two cows that morn- 
ing, and would have killed a third if the dust had not 
blinded him so that he had to drop his bow and arrows 
and press both hands against his eyes to stop the pain. 
The fire-light fell upon his wrinkled face and shrivelled 
figure as he sat telling his story with such inimitable 
gesticulation that every man in the lodge broke into a 
laugh. 

Old Mene-Seela was one of the few Indians in the vil- 
lage with whom I would have trusted myself alone with- 
out suspicion, and the only one from whom I should have 
received a gift or a service without the certainty that it 
proceeded from an interested motive. He was a great 
friend to the whites. He liked to be in their society, and 
was very vain of the favors he had received from them. 
He told me one afternoon, as we were sitting together in 
his son's lodge, that he considered the beaver and the 
whites the wisest people on earth ; indeed, he was, con- 
vinced they were the same ; and an incident which had 
happened to him long before had assured him of this. 
So he began the following story, and as the pipe passed in 
turn to him, Reynal availed himself of these interruptions 
to translate what had preceded. But the old man ac- 
companied his words with such admirable pantomime that 
translation was hardly necessary. 

He sail that when he was very young, and had never yet 
seen a white man, he and three or four of his companions 



THE HUNTING CAMP. 221 

were out on a beaver hunt, and he crawled into a large 
Deaver-lodge, to see what was there. Sometimes he crept 
on his hands and knees, sometimes he was obliged to 
swim, and sometimes to lie flat on his face and drag 
himself along. In this way he crawled a great distance 
under ground. It was very dark, cold, and close, so that 
at last he was almost suffocated, and fell into a swoon. 
When he l)egan to recover, he could just distinguish the 
voices of his companions outside, who had given him up 
for lost, and were singing his death-song. At first he 
could see nothing, but soon discerned something white 
before him, and at length plainly distinguished three peo- 
ple, entirely white, one man and two women, sitting at 
the edge of a black pool of water. He became alarmed, 
and thought it high time to retreat. Having succeeded, 
after great trouble, in reaching daylight again, he went to 
the spot directly above the pool of water where he had 
seen the three mysterious beings. Here he beat a hole with 
his war-club in the ground, and sat down to watch. In 
a moment the nose of an old male beaver appeared at the 
opening. Mene-Seela instantly seized him and dragged 
him up, when two other beavers, both females, thrust 
out their heads, and these he served in the same way. 
*' These," said the old man, concluding his story, for which 
he was probably indebted to a dream, " must have been 
the three white people whom I saw sitting at the edge of 
the water." 

Mene-Seela was the grand depositary of the legends and 
traditions of the village. I succeeded, however, in getting 
from him only a few fragments. Like all Indians, he was 
excessively superstitious, and continually saw some rea 
son for withholding his stories. " It is a bad thing," he 
would say, •• to tell the tales in summer. Stay with ua 
till next winter, and I will tell you every thing I know ! 



222 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

but now oxir war-parties are going out, and our voung 
men will be killed if I sit down to tell stories before the 
frost begins." 

But to leave this digression. We remained encamped 
on this spot five days, during three of which tl.e hunters 
were at work incessantly, and immense quantities of meat 
and hides were brought in. Great alarm, however, pre- 
vailed in the village. All were on the alert. The young 
men ranged the country as scouts, and the old men paid 
careful attention to omens and prodigies, and especially 
to their dreams. In order to convey to the enemy (who, 
if they were in the neighborhood, must inevitably have 
known of our presence) the impression that we were con- 
stantly on the watch, piles of sticks and stones were 
erected on all the surrounding hills, in such a manner as 
to appear at a distance like sentinels. Often, even to this 
hour, that scene will rise before my mind like a visible 
reality ; the tall white rocks ; the old pine-trees on their 
summits ; the sandy stream that ran along their bases 
and half encircled the village ; and the wild-sage bushes, 
with their dull green hue and their medicinal odor, that 
covered all the neighboring declivities. Hour after hour 
the squaws would pass and repass with their vessels of 
water between the stream and the lodges. For the most 
part, no one was to be seen in the camp but women and 
children, twa or three superannuated old men, and a few 
lazy and worthless young ones. These, together with the 
dogs, now grown fat and good-natured with the abundance 
in the camp, were its only tenants. Still it presented a 
busy and bustling scene. In all quarters the meat, hung 
on cords of hide, was drying in the sun, and around the 
lodges, the squaws, young and old, were laboring on the 
fresh hides stretched upon the ground, scraping the hair 
from one side and the still adhering flesh from the other, 



THE HUNTING CAMP. 22S 

and nibbing into tbem the brains of the buffalo, iii order 
to render them soft and pliant. 

In mercy to myself and my horse, I did not go out with 
the hunters after the first day. Of late, however, I had 
been gaining strength rapidly, as was always the case upon 
every respite of my disorder. I was soon able to walk 
with ease. Raymond and I would go out upon the neigh- 
boring prairies to shoot antelope, or sometimes to assail 
straggling buffalo, on foot ; an attempt in which we met 
with rather indifferent success. As I came out of Kongrar 
Tonga's lodge one morning, Reynal called to me from the 
opposite side of the village, and asked me over to break- 
fast. The breakfast was a substantial one. It consisted 
of the rich, juicy hump-ribs of a fat cow ; a repast d.bso- 
lutely unrivalled in its way. It was roasting before the 
fire, impaled upon a stout stick, which Reynal took up 
and planted in the ground before his lodge ; when he, 
with Raymond and myself, taking our seats around it, 
unsheathed our knives and assailed it with good will. In 
spite of all medical experience, this solid fare, without 
bread or salt, seemed to agree with me admirably. 

" We shall have strangers here before night,'' said 
Reynal. 

'' How do you know that ? " I asked. 

" I dreamed so. I am as good at dreaming as an In- 
dian. There's the Hail-Storm ; he dreamed the same 
thing, and he and his crony, The Rabbit, have gone out 
on discovery." 

I laughed at Reynal for his credulity, went over to my 
host's lodge, took down my rifle, walked out a mile or two 
on the prairie, saw an old bull standing alone, crawled 
up a ravine, shot him, and saw him escape. Then, ex- 
hausted and rather ill-humored, I walked back to the 
\rillage. By a strange coincidence, Reynal's prediction 



224 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

had been verified ; for the first persons whom I saw werts 
the two trappers, Rouleau and Saraphin, coming to meet 
me. These men, as the reader may possibly recollect, 
had left our party about a fortnight before. They had 
been trapping among the Black Hills, and were now on 
their way to the Rocky Mountains, intending in a day or 
two to set out for the neighboring Medicine Bow. They 
were not the most elegant or refined of companions, yet 
they made a very welcome addition to the limited society 
of the village. For the rest of that day we lay smoking 
and talking in Reynal's lodge. This indeed was no better 
than a hut, made of hides stretched on poles, and entirely 
open in front. It was well carpeted with soft buffalo- 
robes, and here we remained, sheltered from the sun, sur- 
rounded by the domestic utensils of Madame Margot's 
household. All was quiet in the village. Though the 
hunters had not gone out that day, they lay sleeping in 
their lodges, and most of the women were silently en- 
gaged in their heavy tasks. A few young men were play 
ing at a lazy game of ball in the area of the village ; and 
when they became tired, some girls supplied their place 
with a more boisterous sport. At a little distance, among 
the lodges, some children and half-grown squaws, were 
playfully tossing one of their number in a buffalo-robe, an 
exact counterpart of the ancient pastime from which 
Sancho Panza suiTered so much. Farther out on the 
prairie, a host of little naked boys were roaming about, 
engaged in various rough games, or pursuing birds and 
ground-squirrels with their bows and arrows ; and woe to 
the unhappy little animals that fell into their merciless, 
torture-loving hands. A squaw from the next lodge, a 
notable housewife, named Weah Washtay, or the Good 
Woman, brought us a large bowl of wasna, and went into 
an ecstasy of delight when I presented her with a green 



THE HUNTING CAMP. 225 

glass ring, such as I usually wore with a view to similar 
occasions. 

The sun went down, and half the sky was glowing 
fiery red, reflected on the little stream as it wound away 
among the sage-bushes. Some young men left the vil- 
lage, and soon returned, driving in before them all the 
horses, hundreds in number, and of every size, age, and 
color. The hunters came out, and each securing those 
that belonged to him, exaniiiied their condition, and tied 
them fast by long cords to stakes driven in front of liis 
lodge. It was half an hour before the bustle subsided 
and tranquillity wa^ restored again. By this time it was 
nearly dark. Kettles were hung over the fires, around 
which the squaws were gathered with their children, 
laughing and talking merrily. A circle of a different 
kind was formed in the centre of the village. This was 
composed of the old men and warriors of repute, who sat 
together with their white buffalo-robes drawn close around 
their slioulders ; and as the pipe passed from hand to 
hand, their conversation had not a particle of the gravity 
and resei've usually ascribed to Indians. I sat down with 
them as usual. I had in my hand half a dozen squil)s 
and serpents, which I had made one day when encamped 
upon Ijaramie Creek, with gunpowder and charcoal, and 
the leaves of " Fremont's Expedition," rolled round a 
stout lead-pencil. I waited till I could get hold of the 
large piece of burning bois-de-vache which the Indians 
kept by them on the ground for lighting their pipes. 
With this I lighted all the fireworks at once, and tossed 
them whizzing and sputtering into the air, over the heads 
of the company. They all jumped up and ran oS with 
yelps of astonishment and consternation. After a mo- 
ment or two, they ventured to come back one by one, 
and some of the boldest, picking up the cases of burnt 

16 



226 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

paper, examined them with eager curiosity to diseovei 
their mysterious secret. From that time forward I en- 
joyed great repute as a " lire-medicine." 

The camp was filled with the low lium of cheerful 
voices. Tliere were other sounds, however, of a different 
kind ; for from a large lodge, lighted up like a giganti 
lantern by the blazing fii'C within, came a cJiorus of dia 
mal cries and wailings, long drawn out, like the howling 
of wolves, and a woman, almost naked, was crouching 
close outside, crying violently, and gashing her legs with 
a knife till they were covered with blood. Just a year 
before, a young man belonging to this family had been 
slain by the enemy, and his relatives were thus lament 
ing his loss. Still other sounds might be heard ; loud 
earnest cries often repeated from amid the gloom, at a 
distance beyond the village. They proceeded from some 
young men who, being about to set out in a few days on 
a, war-party, were standing at the top of a hill, calling 
on the Great Spirit to aid them in their enterprise. 
While I was listening, Rouleau, with a laugh on his care- 
less face, called to me and directed my attention to 
another quarter. In front of the lodge where Weah 
Washtay lived, another squaw was standing, angrily scold- 
ing an old yellow dog, who lay on the ground with his 
nose resting between his paws, and his eyes turned 
sleepily up to her face, as if pretending to give espect- 
ful attention, but resolved to fall asleep as soon as it was 
all over. 

" You ought to be ashamed of yourself! " said the old 
woman. " I have fed you well, and taken care of you 
ever since you were small and blind, and could only crawl 
about and squeal a little, instead of howling as you do 
now. When you grew old, I said you were a good dog. 
Vou were strong and gentle when the load was put oi* 



THE HUNTING CAMP. 227 

ycur back, and you never ran among the feet of the 
horses when we were all travelling together over the 
prairie. But you had a bad heart I Whenever a rabbit 
jumped out of the buslies, you were always the first to 
run after him and had away all the other dogs behind 
you. You ought to have known that it was very danger- 
ous to act so. When you had got far out on the prairie, 
and no one was near to help you, perhaps a wolf would 
jump out of the ravine ; and then what could you do ? 
You would certainly have been killed, for no dog can 
fight well with a load on his back. Only three days ago 
you ran off in that way, and turned over the bag of 
wooden pins with which I used to fasten up the front of 
the lodge. Look up there, and you will see that it is ail 
flapping open. And now to-night you have stolen a great 
piece of fat meat v/hicli was roasting before the lire for 
my children. 1 tell you, you have a bad heart, and you 
must die ! " 

So saying, the squaw went into the lodge, and coming 
out with a large stone mallet, killed the unfortunate dog 
at one blow. Tliis speech is worthy of notice, as itlus- 
trating a curious characteristic of the Indians, who as- 
cribe intelligence and a power of understanding speech 
to the inferior animals ; to whom, indeed, accord big to 
many of their traditions, they are linked in close affinity ; 
and they even claim the honor of a lineal descent from 
bears, wolves, deer, or tortoises. 

As it grew late, I walked across the village to the 
lodge of my host, Kongra-Tonga. As I entered 1 saw 
him, by the blaze of the fire in the middle, leclining half 
asleep in his usual place. Tlis couch was by no means 
an uncomfortable one. It consisted of bulfalo-robes, laid 
together on the ground, and a pillow made of whitened 
deer-skin, stuffed with feathers and ornamented with 



228 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

beads. At his back was a light frame-work of poles and 
slender reeds, against which he could lean with ease 
when in a sitting posture ; and at the top of it, just 
above his head, hung his bow and quiver. His squaw, a 
laughing, broad-faced woman, apparently had not yet 
completed her domestic arrangements, for she was bus- 
tling about the lodge, pulling over the utensils and the 
bales of dried meat that were ranged carefully around it. 
Unhappily, she and her partner were not the only tenants 
of the dwelling ; for half a dozen children were scattered 
about, sleeping in every imaginable posture. My saddle 
was in its place at tlie head of the lodge, and a buffalo- 
robe was spread on the ground before it. Wrapping my- 
self in my blanket, I lay down ; but had I not been 
extremely fatigued, the noise in the next lodge would 
have prevented my sleeping. There was the monotonous 
thumping of the Indian drum, mixed with occasional 
sharp yells, and a chorus chanted by twenty voices. A 
grand scene of gambling was going forward with all the 
appropriate formalities. Tlic players were staking on the 
chances of the game their ornaments, their horses, and 
as the excitement rose, their garments, and even their 
weapons ; for desperate gambling is not confined to the 
liells of Paris. The men of the plains and forests no 
less resort to it as a relief to the tedious monotony of 
their lives, which alternate between fierce excitement and 
listless inaction. I fell asleep with the dull notes of the 
drum still sounding on my ear ; but these orgies lasted 
without intermission till daylight. I was soon awakened 
by one of the children crawling over me, while another 
larger one was tugging at my blanket and nestling him- 
self in a very disagreeable proximity. I immediately re- 
pelled those advances by punching the heads of these 
miniature savages with a short stick which I always kept 



THE HUNTING CAMP. 229 

by me for the purpose ; and as sleeping half the day and 
eating much more than is good for them makes them 
extremely restless, this operation usually had to be re- 
peated four or five times in the course of the night. My 
host himself was the author of another formidable annoy- 
ance. All these Indians, and he among the rest, think 
themselves l)0und to the constant performance of certain 
acts as the condition on which their success in life de 
pends, whether in war, love, Ifunting, or any other em 
ployment. These "medicines," as they arc called, which 
are usually communicated in dreams, are often absurd 
enough. Some Indians will strike the butt of the pipe 
against the ground every time they smoke ; others will 
insist that every thing they say shall he interpreted by 
contraries ; and Shaw once met an old man who con- 
ceived that all would be lost unless he compelled every 
white man he met to drink a bowl of cold water. My 
host was particularly unfortunate in his allotment. The 
spirits had told him in a dream that he must sing a cer 
tain song in the middle of every night ; and regularly at 
about twelve o'clock his dismal monotonous chanting 
would awaken me, and I would see him seated bolt up- 
right on his couch, going through his dolorous perform- 
ance with a most business-like air. There were other 
voices of the night, still more inharmonious. Twice or 
thrice, between sunset and dawn, all the dogs in the vil- 
lage, and there were hundreds of them, would bay and 
yelp in chorus ; a horrible clamor, resembling no sound 
that ] have ever heard, except perhaps the frightful howl- 
ng of wolves that we used sometimes to hear, long after- 
ward, when descending the Arkansas on the trail of 
General Kearney's army. This canine uproar is, if possi- 
ble, more discordnnt than that of the wolves. Heard at 
a distance slowb rising on the night, it has a strange 



230 THE OREGON TRAIT,. 

unearthly effect, and would fearfully haunt the dreams ol 
a nervous man; butwhon.you are sleeping in the midsl 
of it, the din is outra,G«'(^us. ( )nc long, loud howl begins 
it, and voice after voice takes up the sound, till it passes 
around the whole circumference of the village, and the 
air is filled with confused and discordant cries, at once 
fierce and mournful. It lasts a few moments, and then 
dies away into silence. 

Morning came, and Kongra-Tonga, mounting his horse, 
rode out wiih the hunters. It may not be amiss to glance 
at him for an instant in his character of husband and 
father. Both he and his squaw, like most other Indians, 
were very fond of their children, whom they indulged to 
excess, and never punished, except in extreme cases, 
when they would throw a bowl of cold water over them. 
Their offspring became sufficiently undutiful and dis- 
obedient under this system of education, which tends not 
a little to foster that wild idea of liberty and utter intol- 
erance of restraint which lie at the foundation of the 
Indian character. It would be hard to find a fonder 
father than Kongra-Tonga. There was one urchin in 
particular, rather less than two feet high, to whom he 
was exceedingly attached; and sometimes spreading a 
buffalo-robe in the lodge, he would seat himself upon it, 
place his small favorite upright before him, and chant in 
a low tone some of the words used as an accompaniment 
to the war-dance. The little fellow, who could just man- 
age to balance himself by stretching out both arms, 
would lift his feet and turn slowly roifnd and round in 
time to his father's music, while my host would laugh 
with delight, and look smiling up into my face to see 
if 1 were admiring this precocious performance of his 
offspring. In his capacity of husband he was less tender. 
Tlie vSquaw who lived in the lodg-e with him had been his 



THE HUNTI^^G CAMP. 231 

partner for many years. She took good care of his 
children and his household concerns. He liked her well 
enough, and as far as I could see, they never quarrelled ; but 
his warmer affections were reserved for younger and more 
recent favorites. Of these he had at present only one, 
who lived in a lodge apart from his own. One da} while 
in this camp, he became displeased with her, pushed her 
out. Iln-ew after her her ornaments, dresses, and every 
thing slie had, and told her to go home to her father. 
Having consummated this summary divorce, for which he 
could show good reasons, he came back, seated himself 
in his usual place, and began to smoke with an air of the 
utmost tranquillity and self-satisfaction. 

I was sitting in the lodge with him on that very after- 
noon, wlien 1 felt some curiosity to learn the history of 
the numerous scars that appeared on his naked body. Of 
some of them, however, I did not venture to inquire, for 
I already understood tlieir origin. Each of his arms was 
marked as if deeply gashed with a knife at regular inter- 
vals, and there were other scars also, of a differejit char- 
acter, on his back and on either breast. They were the 
traces of the tortures which these Indians, in common 
with a few otlier tribes, inflict upon themselves at certain 
seasons ; in part, it may be, to gain the glory of courage 
and endurance, but chiefly as an act of self-sacrifice to 
secure the favor of the spirits. The scars upon the breast 
and back were produced by running through the flesh 
strong splints of wood, to which heavy buflalo-skulls are 
fastened ])y cords of hide, and the wretch runs forward 
with all his strength, assisted by two companions, who 
lake hold of each arm, until the flesh tears apart and 
the skulls are left behind. Others of Kongra-Tonga's 
scars were the result of accidents ; but he had many re- 
ceived in war. He was one of the most noted warriors in 



232 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

the village. In the course of his life he had slain, as he 
boasted to me, fourteen men ; and though, like other In- 
dians, he was a braggart and liar, yet in this statement 
common report bore liini out. Being flattered by my 
inquiries, he told me tale after tale, true or false, of his 
warlike exploits ; and there was one among tlie rest illus- 
trating the worst features of Indian character too well foi 
me to omit it. Pointing out of the opening of the lodge 
towards the Medicine Bow Mountain, not many miles dis- 
tant, he said that he was there a few summers ago with a 
war-party of his young men. Here they found two Snake 
Indians, hunting. They sliot one of tliem with arrows, 
and chased the other up tlie side of tbc mountain till they 
surrounded liim, and Kongra-Tonga himself, jumping for- 
ward among the trees, seized him by tlie arm. Two of 
his young men then ran up and held him fast while he 
scalped him alive. They then built a great fire, and cut 
ting the tendons of their captive's wrists and feet, threw 
him in, and held him down with long poles until he was 
burnt to death. He garnished his story with descriptive 
particulars much too revolting to mention. His features 
were remarkably mild and open, without the fierceness 
of expression common among these Indians ; and as-he 
detailed these devilish cruelties, he looked up into my face 
with the air of earnest simplicity which a little child 
would wear in relating to its mother some anecdote of its 
youthful experience. 

Old ^lene-Seela's lodge could offer another illusUation 
of the ferocity of Indian warfare. A bright-eyed active 
little boy was living there who had belonged to a village 
of the Gros- Ventre Blackfect, a small but bloody and 
treacherous band, in close alliance with the Arapalioe». 
About a year before, Kongra-Tonga and a party of war- 
riors had found about twenty lodges of these Indians 



THE HUNTING CAMP. 233 

upon tlic plains a little to the eastward of our present 
camp ; and surrounding them in the night, they butchered 
men, women, and children, preserving only this little boy 
alive. He was adopted into the old man's family, and 
was now fast becoming identified with the Ogillallah chil- 
dren, among whom he mingled on equal terms. There 
was also a Crow Avarrior in the village, a man of gigantic 
stature and most symmetrical proportions. Having been 
taken prisoner many years before and adopted by a squaw 
in place of a son whom she had lost, he had forgotten his 
old nationality, and was now both in act and inclination 
an Ogillallah. 

It will be remembered that the scheme of the grand 
war-party against the Snake and Crow Indians originated 
in this village ; and though this plan had fallen to the 
ground, the embers of martial ardor continued to glow. 
Eleven young men had prepared to go out against the 
enemy, and the fourth day of our stay in this camp was 
fixed upon for their departure. At the head of this party 
was a well-built, active little Indian, called the Wliite 
Shield, whom I had always noticed for the neatness of his 
dress and appearance. His lodge too, though not a large 
one, was the best in the village, his squaw was one of the 
prettiest, and altogether his dwelling was the model of an 
Ogillallah domestic establishment. I was often a visitor 
there, for the White Shield being rather partial to white 
men used to invite me to continual feasts at all hours of 
the day. Once, when the substantial part of the enter- 
tainment was over, and he and I were seated cross-legged 
on a buffalo-robe smoking together very amicably, he took 
down his warlike equipments, which were hanging around 
the lodge, and displayed them with great pride and self- 
importance. Among the rest was a superb head-dress of 
feathers. Taking this from its case, he put it on and 



234 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

stood before me, perfectly conscious of the gallant air 
which it gave to his dark face and his vigorous graceful 
figure. He told me tliat upon it were the feathers of three 
war-eagles, equal in value to the same number of good 
horses. He took up also a shield gayly painted and hung 
with feathers. The effect of these barbaric ornaments 
was admira])le. His quiver was made of the spotted skin 
of a small panther, common among the Black Hills, from 
which the tail and distended claws, were still allowed to 
hang. The White Shield concluded his entertainment in 
a manner characteristic of an Indian. He begged of me 
a little powder and ball, for he had a gun as well as a bow 
and arrows; but this I was obliged to refuse, l)ocause I 
had scarcely enough for my own use. Making bim, how- 
ever, a parting present of a paper of vermilion, 1 left him 
quite contented. 

On the next morning the White Shield took cold, and 
was attacked with an inflammation of the throat. Im- 
mediately he seemed to lose all spirit, and though before 
no warrior in the village had l)orne himself more proudly. 
he now moped about from lodge to lodge with a forlorr. 
and dejected air. At length he sat down, close wrapped 
in his robe, before the lodge of Reynal, but when he found 
that neither he nor I knew how to relieve him, he arose 
and stalked over to one of the medicine-men of the village. 
Tills old impostor thumped him for some time with both 
fists, howled and yelped over him, and beat a drum close 
to his ear to expel the evil spirit. This treatment failing 
of the desired effect, the White Shield withdi'ew to his 
own lodge, where he lay disconsolate for some hours. 
Making his appearance once more in the afternoon, he 
again took his seat on the ground before Reynal's lodge, 
holding his throat with his hand. For some time he sat 
silent with his eyes fixed mournfully on the ground. At 
last he began to speak in a low tone. 



THE HUJNTJNG CAMP. 235 

'^ I am a brave man," he said ; "all the young men 
think me a great warrior, and ten of them are ready to go 
with me to the war. I will go and show them the enemy. 
Last summer the Snakes killed my brother. I cannot 
live unless I revenge his death. To-morrow we will set 
out and I will take their scalps." 

The White Shield, as he expressed this resolution, 
seemed to have lost all the accustomed fire and spirit 
of his look, and hung his head as if in a fit of despond- 
ency. 

As I was sitting that evening at one of the fires, I saw 
him arrayed in his splendid war-dress, his cheeks painted 
with vermilion, leading his favorite war-horse to the front 
of his lodge. He mounted and rode round the village, 
singing his war-song in a loud hoarse voice amid the shrill 
acclamations of the women. Then dismounting, he re- 
mained foi some minutes prostrate upon the ground, as 
if in an act of supplication. On the following morning I 
looked in vain for the departure of the warriors. All 
was quiet in the village until late in the forenoon, when 
the White Shield came and seated himself in his old place 
before us. Reynal asked him why he had not gone out 
to find the enemy ? 

" I cannot go," he answered in a dejected voice. "1 
have given my war-arrows to the Meneaska." 

" You have only given liim two of your arrows," said 
Reynal. " If you ask him, he will give them back 
again." 

For some time the Wliite Shield said nothing. At last 
he spoke in a gloomy tone, — 

" One of my young men has had bad dreams. The 
spirits of the dead came and threw stones at him in hia 
Bleep." 

If such a dream had aqtually taken place it might have 



236 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

brokan up this or any other war-party, but both Reynal 
and I were convinced at tlie time tliat it was a mere 
fabrication to excuse his remaining at home. 

The White Shield was a warrior of noted prowess. 
Very probably, he would have received a mortal wound 
without the show of pain, and endured without flinching 
the worst tortures that an enemy couM inflict upon him 
The whole power of an Indian's nature would be sum- 
moned to encounter such a trial ; every influence of his 
education from childhood would have prepared him for 
it ; the cause of his suffering would have been visibly and 
palpably before him, and his spirit would rise to set his 
enemy at defiance, and gain the highest glory of a warrior 
by meeting death with fortitude. But when he feels him- 
self attacked by a mysterious evil, before whose assaults 
dis manhood is wasted, and his strength drained away, 
when he can see no enemy to resist and defy, the boldest 
warrior falls prostrate at once. He believes that a bad 
spirit has taken possession of him, or that he is the victim 
of some charm. When suffering from a protracted dis- 
order, an Indian will often abandon himself to his sup- 
posed destiny, pine away and die, the victim of his own 
imagination. The same effect will often follow a series 
of calamities, or a long run of ill-luck, and Indians liave 
been known to ride into the midst of an enemy's camp, 
or attack a grizzly bear single-handed, to get rid of a life 
supposed to lie under the doom of fate. 

Thus after all his fasting, dreaming, and calling upon 
tlic Great Spirit, the White Shield's war-partj came to 
nought. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

THE TRAPPERS. 

TN speaking of the Indians, I have almost forgotten two 
-■- bold adventurers of another race, the trappers Ron 
lean and Saraphin. These men were bent on a hazard- 
ous enterprise. They were on their way to the country 
ranged by the Arapahoes, a day's journey west of our 
camp. These Arapahoes, of whom Shaw and I afterwards 
fell in with a large number, are ferocious savages, who of 
late had declared themselves enemies to the whites, and 
threatened death to the first who should venture within 
their territory. The occasion of the declaration was as 
follows : — 

In the preceding spring, 1845, Col. Kearney left Fort 
Leavenworth with several companies of dragoons, marched 
to Fort Laramie, passed along the foot of the mountains to 
Bent's Fort, and then, turning eastward again, returned 
to the point whence he set out. While at Fort Laramie, 
he sent a part of his command as far westward as Sweet- 
water, while he himself remained at the fort, and de- 
spatched messages to the surrounding Indians to meet 
him there in council. Then for the first time the tribes 
of that vicinity saw the white warriors, and, as might 
have been expected, they were lost in astonishment at 
their regTilar order, their gay attire, the completeness of 
their martial equipment, and the size and strength of theii 
horses. Among the rest, the Arapahoes came in consider 



23 « THE OREGON TRAIL. 

able numbers to the fort. They had lately committeu 
numerous murders, and Col. Kearney threatened that if 
they killed any more white men he would turn loose his 
dragoons upon them, and annihilate their nation. In 
the evening, to add effect to his speech, he ordered a 
howitzer to be tired and a rocket to be thrown up. Many 
of the Arapahoes fell fiat on the ground, while others ran 
away screaming with amazement and terror. On the fol- 
lowing day they withdrew to their mountains, confounded 
at the appearance of the dragoons, at their big gun which 
went off twice at one shot, and the fiery messenger which 
tliey had sent up to the Great Spirit. For many months 
they remained quiet, and did no farther mischief. At 
length, just before we came into the country, one of them, 
by an act of the basest treachery, killed two white men, 
Boot and May, who were trapping among the mountains. 
For this act it was impossible to discover a motive. It 
seemed to spring from one of those inexplicable impulses 
which often possess Indians, and which appear to be mere 
outbreaks of native ferocity. No sooner was the murder 
committed than the whole tribe were in consternation. 
Tliey expected every day that the avenging dragoons 
would come, little thinking that a desert of nine hundred 
miles lay between them and their enemy. A large depu- 
tation of them came to Fort Laramie, bringing a valuable 
present of horses, in atonement. These Bordeaux refused 
to accept. They then asked if he would be satisfied with 
their delivering up the murderei* liimsull'; but he declined 
this offer also. Tiie Arapaliucs went back more terrified 
than ever. Weeks passed away, and still no dragoons 
ai)peared. A result followed which those best acquainted 
witli Indians had predicted. They imagined that feai 
liad prevented Bordeaux from accej)ting their gifts, and 
that they liad nothing to apprehend from the vengeance of 



i^ 



THE TRAPPERS. 239 

the whites From terror they rose to the height of inso- 
lence. Tliey called the white men cowards and old 
women ; and a friendly Dahcotah came to Fort Laramie 
with the report that they were determined to kill the first 
«vhite dog they could lay hands on. 

Had a military officer, with suitable powers, been sta- 
tioned at Fort Laramie ; had he accepted the offer of the 
Arapahoes to deliver up the murderer, and ordered him 
to be led out and shot, in presence of his tribe, they would 
have been awed into tranquillity, and much danger averted ; 
but now the neighborhood of the Medicine Bow Mountain 
was perilous in the extreme. Old Mene-Seela, a true 
friend of the whites, and many other of the Indians, 
gathered about the two trappers, and vainly endeavored to 
turn them from their purpose ; but Rouleau and Saraphin 
only laughed at the danger. On the morning preceding 
that on which they were to leave the camp, we could all 
see faint white columns of smoke rising against the dark 
base of the Medicine Bow. Scouts were sent out immedi- 
ately, and reported that these proceeded from an Arapahoe 
camp, abandoned only a few hours before. Still the two 
trappers continued their preparations for departure. 

Saraphin was a tall, powerful fellow, with a sullen and 
sinister countenance. His rifle had very probably drawn 
3ther blood than that of buffalo or Indians. Rouleau had 
a broad ruddy face, marked with as few traces of thought 
or care as a child's. His figure was square and strong, 
but the first joints of both his feet were frozen off, and 
his horse had lately thrown and trampled upon him, by 
which he had been severely injured in the chest. But 
nothing could subdue his gayety. He went all day roll- 
mg about the camp on his stumps of feet, talking, singing, 
and frolicking with the Indian women. Rouleau had an 
unlucky partiality for squaws. He always had one, whom 



240 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

he must needs bedizen with beads, ribbons, and all the 
finery of an Indian wardrobe ; and though he was obliged 
to leave her behind him during his expeditions, this haz- 
ardous necessity did not at all trouble him, for his dis- 
position was the reverse of jealous. If at any time he 
had not lavished the whole of the precarious profits 
of his vocation upon his dark favorite, he devoted the 
rest to feasting his comrades. If liquor was not to be 
had — and this was usually the case — strong coffee would 
be substituted. As the men of that region are by no 
means remarkable for providence or self-restraint, what 
ever was set before them on these occasions, however ex- 
travagant in price or enormous in quantity, was sure to 
be disposed of at one sitting. Like other trappers. Rou- 
leau's life was one of contrast and variety. It was only 
at certain seasons, and for a limited time, that he was 
absent on his expeditions. For the rest of the year he 
would lounge about the fort, or encamp with his friends in 
its vicinity, hunting, or enjoying all the luxury of inaction ; 
but when once in pursuit of the beaver, lie wa-s involved 
in extreme privations and perils. Hand and foot, eye 
and ear, must be always alert. Frequently he must con- 
tent himself with devouring his evening meal uncooked, 
lest the light of his fire sliould attract the eyes of some 
wandering Indian ; and sometimes having made liis rude 
repast, he must leave his fire still blazing, and withdraw 
to a distance under cover of the darkness, that liis disap- 
pointed enemy, drawn thither by the light, may find his 
victim gone, and be unable to trace his footsteps in the 
gloom. This is the life led by scores of men among the 
Rocky Mountains. I once met a trapper whose breast 
was marked with the scars of six bullets and arrows, 
one of his arms broken by a shot and one of his knees 
sliattered; yet still, with the mettle of New England, 



THE TRAPPERS. 24J 

whence he had come, he continued to follow his perilous 
calling. 

On tlie last day of our stay in this camp, the trappers 
were ready for departure. When in the Black Hills they 
had cauglit seven beavers, and they now left their skins 
in charge of Reynal, to be kept until their return. Their 
strong, gaunt horses were equipped with rusty Spanish 
bits, and rude Mexican saddles, to which wooden stir- 
rups were attached, while a buffalo-robe was rolled up be- 
hind, and a bundle of beaver-traps slung at the pommel. 
These, together with their rifles, knives, powder-horns 
and bullet-pouches, flint and steel and a tin cup, com- 
posed their whole travelling equipment. They shook 
hands ^\ith us, and rode away ; Saraphin, with his grim 
countenance, was in advance ; but Rouleau, clambering 
gayly into his seat, kicked his horse's sides, flourished his 
whip, and trotted briskly over the prairie, trolling forth a 
Canadian song at the top of his voice. Reynal looked 
after them with his face of brutal selfishness. 

'• Well," he said, " if they are killed, I shall have the 
beaver. They'll fetch me fifty dollars at the fort, any 
how." 

This was the last I saw of them. 

We had been five days in the hunting-camp, and the 
meat, which all this time had hung drying in the sun, was 
now fit for trans})ortation. Buffalo-hides also had been 
[)rocured in sufficient quantities for making the next 
season's lodges ; but it remained to provide the long poles 
on which they were to be supported. These were only to 
be had among the tall spruce woods of the Black Hills, and 
in that direction therefore our next move was to be made. 
Amid the general abundance which during this time had 
prevailed in the camp, there were no instances of indi 
vidual privation ; for although the hide and the tongue of 

16 



242 THE OREGOJS TRAIL. 

the Initial belong by exclusive right to the hunter whu 
lias killed it, yet any one else is equally entitled to help 
himself from tlie rest of the carcass. Thus the weak, the 
aged, and even tlic indolent come in for a share of the 
spoils, and many a helpless old woman, who would other- 
wise perish from starvation, is sustained in abundance. 

On the twenty-fifth of July, late in the afternoon, the 
camp broke up, with the usual tunmlt and confusion, and 
we all moved once more, on horseback and on foot, over 
the plains. We advanced however but a few miles. The 
old men, who during the whole march had been stoutly 
striding along on foot in front of the peojjle, now seated 
themselves in a circle on the ground, while the families, 
erecting their lodges in the prescribed order around them, 
formed the usual great circle of the camp ; meanw^hile 
these village patriarchs sat smoking and talking. I 
threw my bridle to Raymond, and sat down as usual along 
with them. There was none of that reserve and appar- 
ent dignity which an Indian always assumes when in 
council, or in the presence of white men whom he dis 
trusts. The party, on the contrary, was an extremely 
merry one, and as in a social circle of a quite dilferent 
character, " if there was not much wit, there was at least a 
great deal of laughter." 

When the first pipe was smoked out, I rose and with- 
drew to the lodge of my host. Here 1 was stooping, in 
the act of taking off my powder-horn and bullet-jx)nch, 
when suddenly, and close at hand, })ealing loud and shrill, 
and in right good earnest, came tlie terrific yell of the 
war-whoop. Kongra-Tonga's squaw snatched up her 
youngest child, and ran out of the lodge. I followed, 
and found the w^iole village in confusion, resounding with 
cries and yells. The circle of old men in the centre had 
vanished. Tlie warriors, with glittering eyes, came dart- 



THE TRAPPERS. 243 

mg, weapons in hand, out of the low openings of the 
lodges, and running with wild yells towards the farther 
end of the village. Advancing a few rods in that direc- 
tion, I saw a crowd in furious agitation. Just then I dis- 
tinguished the voices of Raymond and Reynal, shouting 
to me from a distance, and looking back, 1 saw the latter 
witli his rifle in his hand, standing on the farther bank 
of a little stream that ran along the outskirts of the camp. 
He was calling to Raymond and me to come over and 
join him, and Raymond, with his usual deliberate gait and 
stolid countenance, was already moving in that direction. 
This was clearly the wisest course, unless we wished to 
involve ourselves in the fray ; so I turned to go, but just 
then a pair of eyes, gleaming like a snake's, and an aged 
familiar countenance was thrust from the opening of a 
ueighboring lodge, and out bolted old Mene-Seela, full of 
fight, clutcliing his bow and arrows in one hand and his 
knife in the other. At that instant he tripped and fell 
sprawling on his face, while his weapons flew scattering 
in every direction. The women with loud screams were 
hurrying with their children in their arms to place them 
out of danger, and I observed some hastening to prevent 
mischief, by carrying away all the weapons they could lay 
hands on. On a rising ground close to the camp stood a 
line of old women singing a medicine-song to allay the 
tumult. As I approached the side of the brook, I heard 
gun-shots behind me, and turning back saw that the crowd 
bad separated into two long Ihies of naked warriors con- 
fronting each other at a respectful distance, and yelling 
and jumping about to dodge the shot of their adversa- 
ries, while tliey discharged bullets and arrows against 
each other. At the same time certain sharp, humming 
sounds in the air over my head, like the flight of beetles 
on a summer evening, warned me that the danojer was 



24:4^ THE OREGON TRAIL. 

not wholly confined to the immediate scene of the fraj, 
So wading through the brook, I joined Reynal and Ray- 
mond, and we sat down on the grass, in the postm^e of 
an armed neutrality, to watch the result. 

Happily it may be for ourselves, though contrary tc our 
expectation, the disturbance was quelled almost as soon 
as it began. When I looked again, the combatants were 
once more mingled together in a mass. Though yells 
sounded occasionally from the throng, the firing had en- 
tirely ceased, and I observed five or six persons moving 
busily about, as if acting the part of peace-makers. One 
of the village heralds or criers proclaimed in a loud voice 
something which my two companions were too much en- 
grossed in their own observations, to translate for me. 
The crowd began to disperse, though many a deep-set 
black eye still glittered with an unnatural lustre, as the 
warriors slowly withdrew to their lodges. This fortunate 
suppression of the disturbance was owing to a few of the 
old men, less pugnacious than Mene-Seela, who boldly ran 
in between the combatants, and aided by some of the 
" soldiers," or Indian police, succeeded in effecting their 
object. 

It seemed very strange to me that although many ar- 
rows and bullets were discharged, no one was mortally 
hurt, and 1 could only account for this by the fact that 
both the marksman and the object of his aim were leaping 
about incessantly. By far the greater part of the villagers 
had joined in the fray, for although there were not more 
than a dozen guns in the whole camp, I heard at least 
eight or ten shots fired. 

In a quarter of an hour all was comparatively quiet. 
A group of warriors was again seated in the middle of 
the village, but this time I did not venture to join them, 
because I could see that the pipe, contrary to the usual 



THE TRAPPERS. 245 

order, was passing from the left hand to the right around 
the circle ; a sure sign that a "medicine-smoke " of recon- 
ciliation was going forward, and that a white man would 
be an intruder. When I again entered the still agitated 
camp it was nearly dark, and mournful cries, howls, and 
wailings resounded from many female voices. AVhether 
these had any connection with the late disturbance, or 
were merely lamentations for relatives slain in some 
former war expeditions, I could not distinctly ascertain. 

To inquire tcuo closely into the cause of the quarrel was 
by no means prudent, and it was not until some time after 
that I discovered what had given rise to it. Among the 
Dahcotah there are many associations or fraternities, 
superstitious, warlike, or social. Among them was one 
called " The Arrow-Breakers," now in great measure dis- 
banded and dispersed. In the village there were however 
four men belonging to it, distinguished by the peculiar 
arrangement of their hair, which rose in a high bristling 
mass above their foreheads, adding greatly to their ap- 
parent height, and giving them a most ferocious appear- 
ance. The principal among them was the Mad Wolf, a 
warrior of remarkable size and strength, great courage, 
and the fierceness of a demon. I had always looked upon 
him as the most dangerous man in the village ; and though 
he often invited me to feasts, I never entered his lodge 
unarmed. The Mad Wolf had taken a fancy to a fine 
horse belonging to another Indian, called the Tall Bear ; 
and anxious to get the animal into his possession, he 
made the owner a present of another horse nearly equal 
in value. According to the customs of the Dahcotah, the 
acceptance of this gift 'involved a sort of obligation to 
make a return ; and the Tall Bear well understood that 
the other had his favorite buffalo-horse in view. He how- 
ever accepted th^ present without a word of thanks, and 



246 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

having picketed the horse before his lodge, suffered d^y 
after day to pass without making the expected return. 
The Mad Wolf grew impatient ; and at last, seeing that 
his bounty was not likely to produce the desired result, 
he resolved to reclaim it. So this evening, as soon as 
the village was encamped, he went to the lodge of the 
Tall Bear, seized upon the horse he had given him, and 
led him away. At this the Tall Bear broke into one of 
those fits of sullen rage not uncommon among Indians, 
ran up to the unfortunate horse, and gave him three mor- 
tal stabs with his knife. Quick as lightning the Mad 
Wolf drew his bow to its utmost tension, and held the 
arrow quivering close to the breast of his adversary. The 
Tall Bear, as the Indians who were near him said, stood 
with his bloody knife in his hand, facing the assailant 
with the utmost calmness. Some of his friends and rela- 
tives, seeing his danger, ran hastily to his assistance. 
The remaining three Arrow-Breakers, on the other hand, 
came to the aid of their associate. Their friends joined 
them, the war-cry was raised, and the tumult became 
general. 

The " soldiers," who lent their timely aid in putting it 
down, are the most important executive functionaries in 
an Indian village. The ofhce is one of considerable honor, 
being confided only to men of courage and repute. They 
derive their authority from the old men and chief war- 
riors of the village, who elect them in councils occasionally 
convened for the purpose, and thus can exercise a degree 
of authority which no one else in the village would dare 
to assume. While very few Ogillallah chiefs could venture 
without risk of their lives to strike or lay liands upon the 
meanest of their people, the " soldiers," in the discharge 
of their appropriate functions, have full license to make 
use of these and similar acts of coercion. 



CHAPTER XVll. 

THE BLACK HILLS. 

\ T TE travelled eastward for two days, and then the 
^ ' gloomy ridges of the Black Hills rose up before 
us. The village passed along for some miles beneath 
tlieir declivities, trailing out to a great length over the 
arid praiiie, or winding among small detached hills of 
distorted shapes. Turning sliarply to the left, we entered 
a wide defile of the mountains, down the bottom of which 
a brook came winding, lined with tall grass and dense 
copses, amid which were hidden many beaver dams and 
lodges. We passed along between two lines of high pre- 
cipices and rocks piled in disorder one upon another, with 
scarcely a tree, a bush, or a clump of srass. The restless 
Indian boys wandered along their edges and clambered 
up and down their rugged sides, and sometimes a group 
of them would stand on the verge of a cliff and look down 
on the procession as it passed beneath. As we advanced, 
the passage grew more narrow ; then it suddenly expand-ed 
into a round grassy meadow, completely encompassed by 
mountains ; and here the families stopped as they came 
up in turn, and the camp rose like magic. 

The lodges were hardly pitched when, with their usual 
precipitation, the Indians set about accomplishing the 
object that had brought them there ; that is, obtaining 
poles for their new lodges. Half the population, men, 
women, and boys, mounted their horses and set out f»i» 



248 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

the depths of the mountains. It was a strange caval 
cade, as they rode at full gallop, over the sliijigly rocka 
and into the dark opening of the defile beyond. We 
passed between precipices, .sharp and splintering at the 
tops, their sides beetling over the defile or descending in 
abrupt declivities, bristling with fir-trees. On our left 
they rose close to us like a wall, but on the right a winding 
brook with a narrow strip of marshy soil intervened. 
The stream was clogged with old beaver-dams, and spread 
frequently into wide pools. There were thick bushes and 
many dead and blasted trees along its course, though fre- 
quently nothing remained but stumps cut close to the 
ground by the beaver, and marked witli the sharp chisel 
like teeth of those indefatigable laborers. Sometimes 
we dived among trees, and then emerged upon open 
spots, over which, Indian-like, all galloped at full speed 
As Pauline bounded over the rocks I felt her saddle-girth 
slipping, and alighted to draw it tighter ; when the whole 
calvacade swept past me in a moment, the women with 
their gaudy ornaments tinkling as they rode, the men 
whooping, laughing, and lashing forward their horses. 
Two black-tailed deer bounded away among the rocks ; 
Raymond shot at them from horseback ; the sharp report 
of his rifle was answered by another equally sharp from 
the opposing cliffs, and then the echoes, leaping in rapid 
succession from side to side, died away rattling far amid 
the mountains. 

After having ridden in this manner six or eight miles, 
the scene changed, and all the declivities were covered 
with forests of tall, slender spruce-trees. The Indians 
began to fall off to the right and left, dispersing with 
their hatchets and knives to cut the poles which they had 
come to seek. I was soon left almost alone ; but in the 
stillness of those lonely mountains, the stroke of hatcheta 



THE BLACK HILLS. 249 

and the sound of voices might be heard from far and 
near. 

Reynal, who imitated the Indians in their habits as well 
as the worst features of their character, liad killed buffalo 
enough to make a lodge for himself and his squaw, and 
now he was eager to get the poles necessary to complete 
it. He asked me to let Raymond go with him, and assist 
in the work. I assented, and the two men immediately 
entered the thickest part of the wood. Having left my 
horse in Raymond's keeping, I began to climb the moun- 
tain. I was weak and weary, and made slow progress, 
often pausing to rest, but after an hour, I gained a height 
whence the little valley out of which I had climbed 
seemed like a deep, dark gulf, though the inaccessible 
peak of the mountain was still towering to a much 
greater distance above. Objects familiar from childhood 
surrounded me ; crags and rocks, a black and sullen 
brook that gurgled with a hollow voice deep among the 
crevices, a wood of mossy distorted trees and prostrate 
trunks flung down by age and storms, scattered among 
the rocks, or damming the foaming waters of the brook. 

Wild as they were, these mountains were thickly peo- 
pled. As I climbed farther, I found the broad dusty paths 
made by the elk, as they filed across the mountain side. 
The grass on all the terraces was trampled down by 
deer ; there were numerous tracks of wolves, and in 
some of the rougher and more precipitous parts of the 
ascent, I found foot-prints different from any that I had 
ever seen, and which I took to be those of the Rocky 
Mountain sheep. I sat down upon a rock ; there was a 
perfect stillness. No wind was stirring, and not even 
an insect could be heard. I remembered the danger of 
becoming lost in such a place, and fixed my eye upoc 
one of the tallest pinnacles of the opposite mountain 



250 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

It rose sheer upright from the woods below, and, by ai\ 
extraordinary freak of nature, sustained aloft on its very 
summit a large loose rock. Such a landmark could never 
be mistaken, and feeling once more secure, I began again 
to move forward. A white wolf jumped up from among 
some bushes, and leaped clumsily away ; but he stopped 
Ibr a moment, and turned back his keen eye and grim 
bristling muzzle. I longed to take his scalp and carry it 
back with me, as a trophy of the Black Hills, but before 
1 could fire, he was gone among the rocks. Soon after I 
heard a rustling sound, with a cracking of twigs at a 
little distance, and saw moving above the tall bushes the 
branching antlers of an elk. I was in the midst of a 
hunter's paradise. 

Such are the Black Hills, as I found them in July ; 
but they wear a different garb when winter sets in, when 
the broad boughs of the fir-trees are bent to the ground 
by the load of snow, and the dark mountains are white 
with it. At that season the trappers, returned from their 
autumn expeditions, often build their cabins in the midst 
of tliese solitudes, and live in abundance and luxury on 
the game that harbors there. I have heard them tell, 
how with their tawny mistresses, and perhaps a few 
young Indian companions, they had spent months in total 
seclusion. They would dig pitfalls, and set traps for the 
white wolves, sables, and martens, and though through 
the whole night the awful chorus of the wolves would 
resound from the frozen mountains around them, yet 
within their massive walls of logs they would lie in care- 
less 3ase before the blazing fire, and in the morning shool 
tlie elk and dser from their very door. 



CHAPTER XVni. 

A MOUNTAIN HUNT. 



THE camp was full of the newly-cut lodge- poles, 
some, already prepared, were stacked together, white 
and glistening, to dry and harden in the sun ; others 
were lying on the ground, and the squaws, the boys, and 
even some of the warriors, were busily at work peeling 
off the bark and paring them with their knives to the 
proper dimensions. Most of the hides obtained at the 
last camp were dressed and scraped thin enough for use, 
and many of the squaws were engaged in fitting them 
together and sewing them with sinews, to form the 
coverings for the lodges. Men were wandering among 
the bushes that lined the brook along the margin of the 
camp, cutting sticks of red willow, or shongsasha, the 
bark of which, mixed with tobacco, they use for smok- 
ing. Reynal's squaw was hard at work with her awl 
and buffalo sinews upon her lodge, while her proprietor, 
havmg just finished an enormous breakfast of meat, was 
smoking a social pipe with Raymond and myself. He 
proposed at length that we should go out on a hunt. 
" Go to the Big Craw's lodge," said he, '' and get your 
rifle. I'll bet the gray Wyandot pony against your mare 
that we start an elk or a black-tailed deer, or hkely as 
not, a big-horn before we are two miles out of camp. I'll 
take my squaw's old yellow horse ; you can't whip her 
more than four miles an hour, but she is as good for the 
mountains as a mule." 



252 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

I mounted the black mule which Raymond usually 
rode. She was a powerful animal, gentle and manage- 
able enough by nature; but of late her temper had 
been soured by misfortune. About a week before, I had 
chanced to offend some one of the Indians, who out of 
revenge went secretly into the meadow and gave her a 
severe stab in the haunch with his knife. The wound, 
though partially healed, still galled her extremely, and 
made her even more perverse and obstinate than the rest 
of her species. 

The morning was a glorious one, and I was in better 
health than I had been at any time for the last two 
months. We left the little valley and ascended a rocky 
hollow in the mountain. Very soon we were out of sight 
of the camp, and of every living thing, man, beast, bird, 
or insect. I had never before, except on foot, passed 
over such execrable ground, and I desire never to repeat 
the experiment. The black mule grew indignant, and 
even the redoubtable yellow horse stumbled every mo- 
ment, and kept groaning to himself as he cut his feet 
and legs among the sharp rocks. 

It was a scene of silence and desolation. Little was 
visible except beetling crags and the bare shingly sides 
of the mountains, relieved by scarcely a trace of vegeta- 
tion. At length, however, we came upon a forest tract, 
and had no sooner done so than we heartily wished our- 
selves back among the rocks again ; for we were on a 
steep descent, among trees so thick that we could see 
scarcely a rod in any direction. 

If one is anxious to place himself in a situation where 
the hazardous and the ludicrous are combined in about 
equal proportions, let him get upon a vicious mule, with 
a snaffle bit, and try to drive her through the woods 
down a slope of forty-five degrees. Let him have a long 



A MOUNTAIN HUNT. 253 

rifle, a buckskin frock with long fringes, and a head of 
long hair. These latter appendages will be caught everj 
moment and twitched away in small portions by the 
twigs, which will also whip him smartly across the face, 
while the lai"ge branches above tliiunp liim on the liead. 
His mule, if she be a true one, will alternately stop short 
and dive violently forward, and his positions upon her 
back will be somewhat diversified. At one time he will 
clasp her affectionately, to avoid the blow of a bougb 
overhead ; at another, he will throw himself back and 
fling his knee forward against her neck, to keep it irom 
being crushed between the rough bark of a tree and the 
ribs of the animal. Reynal was cursing incessantly dur- 
ing the whole way down. Neither of us had the re- 
motest idea where we were going ; and though I have 
seen rough riding, I shall always retain an evil recollec- 
tion of that five minutes' scramble. 

At last we left our troubles behind us, emerging into 
the channel of a brook that circled along the foot of the 
descent ; and here, turning joyfully to the left, we rode at 
ease over the white pebbles and the rippling water, shaded 
from the glaring sun by an overarching green trans- 
parency. These halcyon moments were of short durar 
tion. The friendly brook, turning sharply to one side, 
went brawling and foaming down the rocky hill into an 
abyss, which, as far as we could see, had no bottom ; so 
once more we betook ourselves to the detested woods. 
When next we came out from their shadow and sur 
light, we found ourselves standing in the broad glare of 
day, on a high jutting point of the mountain. Before ua 
stretched a long, wide, desert valley, winding away far 
amid the mountains. Reynal gazed intently ; he began 
to speak at last : — 

" Many a time, when I was with the Indians, 1 ha\e 



o54: THE OREGON TRAIL. 

been hunting for gold all through the Black H^ls. There's 
plenty of it here ; you may be certain of that. 1 have 
dreamed about it fifty times, and I never dreamed yet but 
wliat it came out true. Look over yonder at those black 
rocks piled up against that other big rock. Don't it look 
as if there might be something there ? It won't do for a 
white man to be rummaging too much about these moun- 
tains ; the Indians say they are full of bad spirits ; and I 
believe myself that it's no good luck to be hunting about 
here after gold. Well, for all that, I would like to have 
one of those fellows up hdre, from down below, to go 
about with his witch-hazel rod, and I'll guarantee that it 
would not be long before he w^ould light on a gold-mine. 
Never mind ; we'll let the gold alone for to-day. Look at 
those trees down below us in the hollow ; we'll go down 
there, and I reckon we'll get a black-tailed deer." 

But Reynal's predictions were not verified. We passed 
mountain after mountain, and valley after valley ; we ex- 
plored deep ravines ; yet still, to my companion's vexa- 
tion and evident surprise, no game could be found. So, 
in the absence of better, we resolved to go out on the 
plains and look for an antelope. With this view we began 
to pass down a narrow valley, the bottom of which was 
covered with the stiff wild-sage bushes, and marked with 
deep paths, made by the buffalo, wdio, for some inexpli- 
cable reason, are accustomed to penetrate, in their long 
grave processions, deep among the gorges of these sterile 
mountains. 

Reynal's eye ranged incessantly among the rocks and 
along the edges of the precipices, in hopes of discovering 
the mountain-sheep peering down upon us from that giddy 
elevation. Nothing was visible for some time. At length 
we both detected something in motion near the foot of one 
of the mountains, and a moment afterward a black-tailed 



A MOUNTAIN HUNT. 255 

deor stood gazing at us from the top of a i\)ck, and then, 
slowly turning away, disappeared behind it. In an instant 
Reynal was out of his saddle, and running towards the 
spot. I, being too weak to follow, sat holding his horse 
and waiting the result. I lost sight of him ; then heard 
the report of his rifle deadened among the rocks, and 
finally saw him reappear, with a surly look, that plainly 
betrayed his ill success. Again we moved forward down 
the long valley, when soon after we came full upon what 
seemed a wide and very shallow ditch, inci'usted at the 
bottom with white clay, dried and cracked in tlie sun. 
Under this fair outside ReynaFs eye detected the signs 
of lurking mischief. He called to me to stop, and then 
alighting, picked up a stone and threw it into the ditch. 
To my amazement it fell \\dth a dull splash, breaking at 
once through the thin crust, and spattering round the hole 
a yellowish creamy fluid, into which it sank and disap- 
peared. A stick, five or six feet long, lay on the ground, 
and with this we sounded the insidious abyss close to its 
edge. It was just possible to touch the bottom. Places 
like this are numerous among the Rocky Mountains, 
The buffalo, in his blind and heedless walk, often plunges 
into them unawares. Down he sinks ; one snort of terror, 
one convulsive struggle, and the slime calmly flows above 
his shaggy head, the languid undulations of its sleek and 
placid surface alone betraying how the powerful monster 
writhes in his death-throes below. 

We found after some trouble a point wiiere we could 
pass the abyss, and now tlic valley began to open upon 
plains which spread to the horizon before us. On one 
of their distant swells wc discerned three or four blact 
specks, which Reynal pronounced to be buflalo. 

" Come," said he, " we must get one of them. M^ 
squaw wants more sinews to finish her lodge with, and ] 
want some ulue mvself." 



356' THE OREGON TRAIL. 

Ee immediately put the yellow horse to such a gallop 
as he was capable of executing, while I set spurs to the 
mule, who soon far outran her plebeian rival. When we 
had galloped a mile or more, a large rabbit, by ill-luck, 
sprang up just under the feet of the mule, who bounded 
violently aside in full career. Weakened as I was, I was 
flung forcibly to the ground, and my rifle, falling close to 
iny head, went off with the shock. Its sharp, spiteful 
1 eport rang for some moments in my ear. Being slightly 
stunned, I lay for an instant motionless, and Reynal, sup 
posing me to be shot, rode up and began to curse the mule, 
ooon recovering myself, I arose, picked up the rifle and 
anxiously examhied it. It was badly injured. The stock 
was cracked, and the main screw broken, so that the lock 
had to be tied in its place with a string ; yet happily it 
was not rendered totally unserviceable. I wiped it out, 
reloaded it, and handing it to Reynal, who meanwhile had 
caught the mule and led her up to me, I mounted again. 
No sooner had I done so, than the brute began to rear 
and plunge with extreme violence ; but being now well 
prepared for her, and free from incumbrance, I soon re- 
duced her to submission. Then taking the rifle again 
from Reynal, we galloped forward as before. 

We were now free of the mountains and riding far out 
on the broad prairie. The buffalo were still some two 
miles in advance of us. When we came near them, we 
stopped where a gentle swell of the plain concealed us, 
and while I held his horse Reynal ran forward with his 
L'ifle, till I lost sight of him beyond the rising ground. 
A few minutes elapsed : I heard the report of liis piece, 
and saw the buffalo running away, at full speed on the 
right ; immediately after, the hunter himself, unsuccessful 
as before, came up and mounted liis horse in excessive 
ill-humor. He cursed the Black Hills and the buffalo. 



A MOUNTAIN HUNT. 257 

swore that he was a good hunter, which indeed was true, 
and that he had never been out before among those moun- 
tains without killing two or three deer at least. 

We now turned towards the distant encampment. As 
we rode along, antelope in considerable numbers were 
flying lightly in all directions over the plain, but not one 
of them would stand and be shot at. When we reached 
the foot of the mountain-ridge that lay between us and 
the village, we were too impatient to take the smooth and 
circuitous route ; so turning sliort to the left, we drove 
our wearied animals upward among the rocks. Still more 
antelope were leaping about among these flinty hill-sides. 
Each of us shot at one, though from a great distance, 
and each missed his mark. At length we reached the 
summit of the last ridge. Looking down we saw the 
bustling camp in the valley at our feet, and ingloriously 
descended to it. As we rode among the lodges, the 
Indians looked in vain for the fresh meat that should 
have hung behind our saddles, and the squaws uttered 
various suppressed ejaculations, to the great indignation 
of Reynal. Our mortification was increased when we 
rode up to his lodge. Here we saw his young Indian 
relative, the Hail-Storm, his light graceful figure reclin- 
ing on the ground in an easy attitude, while with his 
friend The Rabbit, who sat by his side, he was making an 
abundant meal from a wooden bowl of wasna, which the 
squaw had placed between them. Near him lay the fresh 
skin of a female elk, which he had just killed among the 
mountains, only a mile or two from the camp. No doubt 
the boy's heart was elated with triumph, but he betrayed 
no sign of it. He even seemed totally unconscious of 
our approach, and his handsome face had all the tran- 
quillity of Indian self-control ; a self-control which pre- 
vents the exhibition of emotion without restraining the 

17 



258 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

emotion itself. It was about two months since I had 
known the Hail-Storm, and within that time his charac- 
ter had remarkably developed. When I first saw him, 
he was just emerging from the habits and feelings of the 
boy into the ambition of the hunter and warrior. He 
had lately killed his first deer, and this had excitea his 
aspirations for distinction. Since that time he had been 
continually in search of game, and no young hunter in 
the village had been so active or so fortunate as he. All 
this success had produced a marked change in his char- 
acter. As I first remembered him he always shunned 
the society of the young squaws, and was extremely bash- 
ful and sheepish in their presence ; but now, in the con- 
fidence of his new reputation, he began to assume the 
airs and arts of a man of gallantry. He wore his red 
blanket dashingly over his left shoulder, painted his 
cheeks every day with vermilion, and hung pendants of 
shells in his ears. If I observed aright, he met with 
very good success in his new pursuits ; still the Hail- 
Storm had much to accomplish before he attained the full 
standing of a warrior. Gallantly as he began to bear 
himself among the women and girls, he was still timid 
and abashed in the presence of the chiefs and old men ; 
for he had never yet killed a man, or stricken the dead 
body of an enemy in battle. I have no doubt that the 
handsome, smooth-faced boy burned with desire to flesh 
his maiden seal ping-knife, and I would not have en- 
camped alone with him without watching his movements 
with a suspicious eye. 

His elder brother, The Horse, was of a different char- 
acter. He was nothing but a lazy dandy. He knew 
very well how to hunt, but preferred to live by the hunt- 
ing of others. He had no appetite for distinction, and 
the Hail-Storm already surpassed him in reputation. He 



A MOUNTAIN HUNT. 259 

had a dark and ugly face, and passed a great part of his 
time in adorning it with vermilion, and contemplating 
it bj means of a little pocket looking-glass which I had 
given him. As for the rest of the day, he divided it be- 
tween eating, sleeping, and sitting in the sun on the out- 
side of a lodge. Here he would remain for hour after 
hour, arrayed in all his finery, with an old dragoon's 
sword in his hand, evidently flattering himself that he 
was the centre of attraction to the eyes of the surround- 
ing squaws. Yet he sat looking straight forward with a 
face of the utmost gravity, as if wrapped in profound 
meditation, and it was only by the occasional sidelong 
glances which he shot at his supposed admirers that one 
could detect the true course of his thoughts. 

Both he and his brother may represent classes in the 
Indian community: neither should the Hail-Storm's friend, 
The Rabbit, be passed by without notice. The Hail-Storm 
and he were inseparable : they ate, slept, and hunted 
together, and shared with one another almost all that 
they possessed. If there be any thing that deserves to be 
called romantic in the Indian character, it is to be sought 
for in friendships such as this, which are common among 
many of the prairie tribes. 

Slowly, hour after hour, that weary afternoon dragged 
away. I lay in Reynal's lodge, overcome by the listless 
torpor that pervaded the encampment. The day's work 
was finished, or if it were not, the inhabitants had re- 
Sfjlved not to finish it at all, and were dozing quietly 
within the shelter of the lodges. A profound lethargy, 
the very spirit of indolence, seemed to have sunk upon 
the village. Now and then I could hear the low laughter 
of some girl from within a neighboring lodge, or the small 
shrill voices of a few restless children, who alone were 
moving in the deserted area. The spirit of the place 



260 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

infected me ; I could not think consecutively , I was fit 
only for musing and reverie, when at last, like the rest, 1 
fell asleep. 

When evening came, and the fires were lighted round 
the lodges, a select family circle convened in the neigh- 
borhood of Reynal's domicile. It was composed entirely 
of his squaw's relatives, a mean and ignoble clan, among 
whom none but the Hail-Storm held forth any promise of 
future distinction. Even his prospects were rendered not 
a little dubious by the character of the family, less how- 
ever from an} principle of aristocratic distinction than 
from the want of powerful supporters to assist him in his 
undertakings, and help to avenge his quarrels. Raymond 
and I sat down along with them. There were eight or 
ten men gathered around the fire, together with about as 
many women, old and young, some of whom were toler- 
ably good-looking. As the pipe passed round among the 
men, a lively conversation went forward, more merry than 
delicate, and at length two or three of the elder women 
(for the girls were somewhat diffident and bashful) began 
to assail Raymond with various pungent witticisms. Some 
of the men took part, and an old squaw concluded by 
bestowing on him a ludicrous and indecent nickname, at 
which a general laugh followed at his expense. Raymond 
grinned and giggled, and made several futile attempts at 
repartee. Knowing the impolicy and even danger of suf- 
fering myself to be placed in a ludicrous light among the 
Indians, I maintained a rigid inflexible countenance, and 
wholly escaped their sallies. 

In the morning I found, to my great disgust, that the 
camp was to retain its position for another day. I dreaded 
its languor and monotony, and, to escape it, set out to ex- 
plore the surrounding mountains. I was accompanied by 
a faithful friend, my rifle, the only friend indeed on whose 



A MOUNTAIN HUNT. 261 

prompt assistance in time of trouble I could whollv- rt^lj 
Most of the Indians in the village, it is true, professed 
good- will towards the whites, but the experience of others 
and my own observation had taught me the extreme folly 
of confidence, and the utter impossibility of foreseeing to 
what sudden acts the strange unbridled impulses of au 
Indian may urge him. When among this people danger 
is never so near as when you are unprepared for, it, never 
so remote as when you are armed and on the alert to meet 
it at any moment. Nothing offers so strong a temptation 
to their ferocious instincts as the appearance of timidity, 
weakness, or security. 

Many deep and gloomy gorges, choked with trees and 
bushes, opened from the sides of the hills, which were 
shaggy with forests wherever the rocks permitted vegeta- 
tion to spring. A great number of Indians were stalking 
along the edges of the woods, and boys were whooping 
and laughing on the mountains, practising eye and hand, 
and indulging their destructive propensities by killing 
birds and small animals with their little bows and arrows. 
There was one glen, stretching up between steep cliffs far 
into the bosom of the mountain. I began to ascend along 
its bottom, pushing my way onward among the rocks, 
trees, and bushes that obstructed it. A slender thread 
01 water trickled through it, which since issuing from the 
heart of its native rock could scarcely have been warmed 
or gladdened by a ray of sunshine. After advancing for 
some time, I conceived myself to be entirely alone ; but 
coming to a part of the glen in a great measure free of 
trees and undergrowth, I saw at some distance the black 
head and red shoulders of an Indian among the bushes 
above. The reader need not prepare himself for a start- 
ling adventure, for I have none to relate. The head and 
shoulders belonged to Mene-Seela, my best friend in ihe 



262 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

village. As I had approached noiselessly with my moc- 
casined feet, the old man was quite unconscious of my 
presence ; and turning to a point where I could gain an 
tinobstructed view of him, I saw him seated alone, im- 
movable as a statue, among the rocks and trees. His 
face was turned upward, and his eyes seemed riveted on 
a pine-tree springing from a cleft in the precipice above. 
The crest of the pine was swaying to and fro in the wind, 
and its long limbs waved slowly up and down, as if the 
tree had life. Looking for a while at the old man, I was 
satisfied that he was engaged in an act of worship, or 
prayer, or communion of some kind with a supernatural 
being. 1 longed to penetrate his thoughts, but I could do 
nothing more than conjecture and speculate. I knew 
that though the intellect of an Indian can embrace the 
idea of an all-wise, all-powerful Spirit, the supreme Ruler 
of the universe, yet his mind will not always ascend into 
communion with a being that seems to him so vast, re- 
mote, and incomprehensible ; and when danger threatens, 
when his hopes are broken, and trouble overshadows him, 
he is prone to turn for relief to some inferior agency, less 
removed from the ordinary scope of his faculties. He 
has a guardian spirit, on whom he relies for succor and 
guidance. To him all nature is instinct with mystic in- 
fluence. Among those mountains not a wild beast was 
prowling, a bird singing, or a leaf fluttering, that might 
not tend to direct his destiny, or give warning of what 
was in store for him ; and he watches the world of nature 
around him as the astrologer watches the stars. So 
closely is he linked with it, that his guardian spirit, no 
unsubstantial creation of the fancy, is usually embodied 
in the form of some living thing : a bear, a wolf, an eagle, 
or a serpent ; and Mene-Seela, as he gazed intently on the 
old pine-tree, might believe it to inshrine the fancied guide 
and protector of his life. 



I 



A MOUNTAIN HUNT. 263 

Whatever was passing in the mind of the old man, it 
was no part of good sense to disturb him. Silently retrac- 
ing my footsteps, I descended the glen until I came to a 
point where I could climb the precipices that shut it in, 
and gain the side of the mountain. Looking up, I saw a 
tall peak rising among the woods. Something impelled 
me to climb ; I had not felt for many a day such strength 
and elasticity of limb. An hour and a half of slow and 
often intermitted labor brought me to the very summit ; 
and emerging from the dark shadows of the rocks and 
pines, I stepped forth into the light, and walking along 
the sunny verge of a precipice, seated myself on its 
extreme point. Looking between the mountain-peaks to 
the westward, the pale blue prairie was stretching to the 
farthest horizon, like a serene and tranquil ocean. The 
surrounding mountains were in themselves sufficiently 
striking and impressive, but this contrast gave redoubled 
effect to their stern features. 



CHAPTER XIX. 

PASSAGE OP THE MOUNTAINS. 

\ T THEN I took leave of Shaw at La Bontd's camp, 1 
^^ promised to meet liim at Fort Laramie on tlie 
first of August. The Indians, too, intended to pass the 
mountains and move towards the fort. To do so at this 
point was impossible, because there was no passage ; and 
in order to find one we were obliged to go twelve or four- 
teen miles southward. Late in the afternoon the camp 
got in motion. I rode in company with three or four 
young Indians at the rear, and the moving swarm stretched 
before me, in the ruddy light of sunset, or the deep shadow 
of the mountains, far beyond my sight. It was an ill- 
omened spot they chose to encamp upon. When they 
were there just a year before, a war-party of ten men, led 
by The Whirlwind's son, had gone out against the enemy, 
and not one had ever returned. This was the immediate 
cause of this season's warlike preparations. I was not a 
little astonished, when I came to the camp, at the con- 
fusion of horrible sounds with which it was filled ; howls, 
shrieks, and wailings rose from all the women present, 
many of whom, not content with this exhibition of grief 
for the loss of their friends and relatives, were gashing 
their legs deeply with knives. A warrior in the village, 
who had lost a brother in the expedition, chose another 
mode of displaying his sorrow. The Indians, who though 
often rapacious, are devoid of avarice, will sometimes, 



PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS. *26b 

when in mourning, or on other solemn occasions, give away 
the whole of their possessions, and reduce themselves to 
nakedness and want. The warrior in question led his 
two best horses into the middle of the village, and gave 
them away to his friends ; upon which, songs and accla- 
mations in praise of his generosity mingled with the cries 
of the women. 

On the next morning we entered again among the 
mountains. There was nothing in their appearance either 
grand or picturesque, though they were desolate to the last 
degree, being mere piles of black and broken rocks, with 
out trees or vegetation of any kind. As we passed among 
them along a wide valley, I noticed Raymond riding by 
the side of a young squaw, to whom he was addressing 
various compliments. All the old squaws in the neighbor- 
hood watched his proceedings in great admii ation, and 
the girl herself would turn aside her head and laugh. Just 
then his mule thought proper to display her vicious pranks, 
and began to rear and plunge most furiously. Raymond 
was an excellent rider, and at first he stuck fast in his 
seat ; but the moment after, I saw the mule's hind-legs 
flourishing in the air, and my unlucky follower pitching 
head foremost over her ears. There was a burst of 
screams and laughter from all the women, in which his 
mistress herself took part, and Raymond was assailed by 
such a shower of witticisms, that he was glad to ride for- 
vrard out of hearing. 

Not long after, as I rode near him, I heard him shout- 
ing to me. He was pointing towards a detached rocky 
hill that stood in the middle of the valley before us, and 
from behind it a long file of elk came out at full speed 
and entered an opening in the mountain. They had 
scarcely disappeared, when whoops and exclamations 
came from fifty voices around me. The young men 



266 THE OREGON TRAIL 

leaped from their horses, flung down their heavy buffalo- 
robes, and ran at full speed towards the foot of the near- 
est mountain. Reynal also broke away at a gallop in the 
same direction. " Come on ! come on ! " he called to us. 
"Do you see that band of big-horn up yonder ? If there's 
one of them, there's a hundred ! " 

In fact, near the summit of the mountain, I could see 
a large number of small white objects, moving rapidly up- 
wards among the precipices, while others were filing along 
its rocky profile. Anxious to see the sport, I galloped for- 
ward, and entering a passage in the side of the mountain, 
ascended among the loose rocks as far as my horse could 
carry me. Here I fastened her to an old pine-tree. At 
that moment Raymond called to me from the right that 
another band of sheep was close at hand in that direction. 
I ran up to the top of the opening, which gave me a full 
view into the rocky gorge beyond ; and here I plainly saw 
some fifty or sixty sheep, almost within rifle-shot, clat- 
tering upwards among the rocks, and endeavoring, after 
their usual custom, to reach the highest point. The naked 
Indians bounded up lightly in pursuit. In a moment the 
game and hunters disappeared. Nothing could be seen 
or heard but the occasional report of a gun, more and 
more distant, reverberating among the rocks. 

I turned to descend, and as I did so, could see the valley 
oelow alive with Indians passing rapidly through it, on 
horseback and on foot. A little farther on, all were stop- 
ping as they came up ; the camp was preparing and the 
lodges rising. I descended to this spot, and soon after 
Reynal and Raymond returned. They bore between them 
a sheep which they had pelted to death with stones from 
the edge of a ravine, along the bottom of which it was 
attempting to escape. One by one the hunters came drop- 
oing in ; yet such is the activity of the Rocky Mountain 



PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS. 261 

sheep, that although sixty or seventy men were out in 
pursuit, not more than half a dozen animals were killed. 
Of these only one was a full-grown male. He had a pair 
of horns, the dimensions of which were almost beyond 
belief. I have seen among the Indians ladles with long 
handles, capable of containing more than a quart, cut out 
from such horns. 

Through the whole of the next morning we were mov- 
mg forward among the hills. On the following day the 
heights closed around us, and the passage of the mountains 
began in earnest. Before the village left its 'camping- 
ground, I set forward in company with the Eagle-Feather, 
a man of powerful frame, but with a bad and sinister face. 
His son, a light-limbed boy, rode with us, and another 
Indian, named The Panther, was also of the party. Leav- 
ing the village out of sight behind us, we rode together 
up a rocky defile. After a while, however, the Eagle- 
Feather discovered in the distance some appearance of 
game, and set off with his son in pursuit of it, while 1 
went forward with The Panther. This was a mere nom 
de guerre ; for, like many Indians, he concealed his real 
name out of some superstitious notion. He was a noble- 
looking fellow. As he suffered his ornamented buffalo- 
robe to fall in folds about his loins, his stately and 
graceful figure was fully displayed ; and while he sat his 
horse m an easy attitude, the long feathers of the prairie- 
cock fluttering from the crown of his bead, he seemed the 
very model of a wild prairie-rider. He had not the same 
features with those of other Indians. Unless his face 
greatly belied him, he was free from the jealousy, suspicion,- 
and malignant cunning of his people. For the most part, 
a civilized white man can discover very few points of sym- 
pathy between his own nature and that of an Indian 
With every disposition to do justice to their good qua! 



268 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

ities, he must be conscious that an impassable gulf lies 
between him and his red brethren. Nay, so alien to him- 
self do they appear, that, after breathing the air of the 
prairie for a few months or weeks, he begins to look upon 
them as a troublesome and dangerous species of wild beast. 
Yet, in the countenance of The Panther, I gladly read 
that there were at least some points of sympathy between 
liim and me. We were excellent friends, and as we rode 
forward together through rocky passages, deep dells, and 
little barren plains, he occupied himself very zealously in 
teaching me the Dahcotah language. After a while, we 
came to a grassy recess, where some gooseberry-bushes 
were growing at the foot of a rock : and these offered such 
temptation to my companion, that he gave over his in- 
structions, and stopped so long to gather the fruit, that 
before we were in motion again the van of the village 
came in view. An old woman appeared, leading down 
her pack-horse among the rocks above. Savage after 
savage followed, and the little dell was soon crowded 
with the throng. 

Tliat morning's march was one not to be forgotten. 
It led us through a sublime waste, a wilderness of moun- 
jiins and pine-forests, over which the spirit of loneliness 
and silence seemed brooding. Above and below, little 
could be seen but the same dark green foliage. It over- 
spread the valleys, and enveloped the mountains, from 
the black rocks that crowned their summits to the 
streams that circled round their base. I rode to the top 
of a hill whence I could look down on the savage proces- 
sion as it passed beneath my feet, and, far on the left, 
could see its thin and broken line, visible only at inter- 
vals, stretching away for miles among the mountams. 
On the farthest ridge, horsemen were still descending like 
mere specks in the distance. 



PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS. 269 

I remained on the hill until all had passed, and then 
descending followed after them. A little farther on I 
found a very small meadow, set deeply among steep 
mountains ; and here the whole village had encamped. 
The little spot was crowded with the confused and dis- 
orderly host. Some of the lodges were already set up, or 
the squaws perhaps were busy in drawing the heavy cov^ 
erings of skin over the bare poles. Others were as yet 
mere skeletons, while others still, poles, covering, and all, 
lay scattered in disorder on the ground among buffalo 
robes, bales of meat, domestic utensils, harness, and 
weapons. Squaws were screaming to one another, horses 
rearing and plunging, dogs yelping, eager to be disbur- 
dened of their loads, while the fluttering of feathers and 
the gleam of savage ornaments added liveliness to the 
scene. The small children ran about amid the crowd, while 
many of the boys were scrambling among the overhang- 
ing rocks, and standing with their little bows in their 
hands, looking down upon the restless throng. In con- 
trast with the general confusion, a circle of old men and 
warriors sat in the midst, smoking in profound indifference 
and tranquillity. The disorder at length subsided. The 
horses were driven away to feed along the adjacent val- 
ley, and the camp assumed an air of listless repose. It 
was scarcely past noon ; a vast white canopy of smoke 
from a burning forest to the eastward overhung the place, 
and partially obscured the rays of the sun ; yet the neat 
was almost insupportable. The lodges stood crowded 
together without order in the narrow space. Each was a 
hot-house, within which the lazy proprietor lay sleeping. 
The camp was silent as death. Nothing stirred except 
now and then an old woman passing from lodge to lodge. 
The girls and young men sat together in groups, under 
the pine-trees upon the surrounding heights. The dogs 



210 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

lay panting on the ground, too languid even to growl at 
the white man. At the entrance of the meadow, there 
was a cold spring among the rocks, completel} over- 
shadowed by tall trees and dense undergrowth. In this 
cool and shady retreat a number of girls were asseml)led, 
sitting together on rocks and fallen logs, discussing the 
latest gossip of the village, or laughing and throwing 
water with their hands at the intruding Meneaska. The 
minutes seemed lengthened into hours. T lay for a long 
time under a tree studying the Ogillallah tongue, with the 
aid of my friend The Panther. When we were both tired 
of this, I lay down by the side of a deep, clear pool, 
formed by the water of the spring. A shoal of little 
fishes of about a pin's lengtli were playing in it, sporting 
together, as it seemed, very amicably ; but on closer ob- 
servation, I saw that they were engaged in cannibal war- 
fare among themselves. Now and then one of the smallest 
would fall a victim, and immediately disappear down the 
maw of his conqueror. Every moment, however, the 
tyrant of the pool, a goggle-eyed monster about three 
inches long, would slowly emerge with quivering fins and 
tail from under the shelving bank. The small fry at this 
would suspend their hostilities, and scatter in a panic at 
the appearance of overwhelming force. 

" Soft-liearted philanthropists," thought I, " may sigh 
long for their peaceful millennium; for, from minnows 
to men, life is incessant war." 

Evening approached at last ; the crests of the moun- 
tains were still bright in sunshine, while our deep glen 
was completely shadowed. I left the camp, and climbed 
a neighboring hill. The sun was still glaring through the 
stiff pines on the ridge of the western mountain. In a 
moment he was gone, and, as the landscape darkened, I 
turned again towards the village. As I descended, the 



PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS. 271 

Howling of wolves and the barking of foxes came up 
out of the dim woods from far and near. The camp was 
glowing with a multitude of fires, and alive with dusky 
naked figures, whose tall shadows flitted, weird and ghost- 
like, among the surrounding crags. 

I found a circle of smokers seated in their usual place : 
that is, on the ground before the lodge of a certain war- 
rior, who seemed to be generally known for his social 
qualities. I sat down to smoke a parting pipe with my 
savage friends. That day was the first of August, on 
which I had promised to meet Shaw at Fort Laramie. 
The fort was less than two days' journey distant, and 
that my friend need not suffer anxiety on my account, I 
resolved to. push forward as rapidly as possible to the place 
of meeting. I went to look after the Hail-Storm, and 
having found him, I offered him a handful of hawks'- 
bells and a paper of vermilion, on condition that he 
would guide me in the morning through the mountains. 

The Hail-Storm ejaculated " How I " and accepted the 
gift. Nothing more was said on either side ; the matter 
was settled, and I lay down to sleep in Kongra-Tonga's 
lodge. 

Long before daylight, Eaymond shook me by the 
shoulder. 

" Every thing is ready," he said. 

I went out. The morning was chill, damp, and dark \ 
and the whole camp seemed asleep. The Hail-Storm sat 
on horseback before the lodge, and my mare Pauline and 
the mule which Raymond rode were picketed near it. 
We saddled and made our other arrangements for the 
journey, but before these were completed the camp began 
to stir, and the lodge-coverings fluttered and rustled as 
the squaws pulled them down in preparation for depart- 
ure. Just as the light began to appear, we left the 



272 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

ground, passing up through a narrow opening among the 
rocks which led eastward out of the meadow. Gaining 
the top of this passage, I turned and sat looking back 
upon the camp, dimly visible in the gray light of morn- 
ing. All was alive with the bustle of preparation. I 
turned away, half unwilling to take a final leave of my 
savage associates. We passed among rocks and pine- 
trees so dark, that for a while we could scarcely see our 
way. The country in front was wild and broken, half 
hill, half plain, partly open and partly covered with woods 
of pine and oak. Barriers of lofty mountains encom- 
passed it ; the woods were fresh and cool in the early 
morning, the peaks of the mountains were wreathed with 
mist, and sluggish vapors were entangled among the 
forests upon their sides. At length the black pinnacle of 
the tallest mountain was tipped with gold by the rising 
sun. The Hail-Storm, who rode in front, gave a low ex- 
clamation. Some large animal leaped up from among 
the bushes, and an elk, as I thought, his horns thrown 
back over his neck, darted past us across the open space, 
and bounded like a mad thing away among the adjoining 
pines. Raymond was soon out of his saddle, but before 
he could fire, the animal was full two hundred yards 
distant. The ball struck its mark, though much too low 
for mortal effect. The elk, however, wheeled in his flight, 
and ran at full speed among the trees, nearly at right 
angles to his former course. I fired and broke his shoul- 
der ; still he moved on, limping down into a neighboring 
woody hollow, whither the young Indian followed and 
killed him. When we reached the spot, we discovered 
him to be no elk, but a black-tailed deer, an animal nearly 
twice as large as the common deer, and quite unknown in 
the east. The reports of the rifles had reached the ears 
of the Indians, and several of them came to the spot. 



PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS. 273 

Leaving the hide of the deer to the Hail-Storm, we hung as 
much of the meat as we wanted behind our saddles, left 
the rest to the Indians, and resumed our journey. Mean- 
while the village was on its way, and had gone so far 
that to get in advance of it was impossible. We directed 
our course so as to strike its line of march at the nearest 
point. In a short time, through the dark trunks of the 
pines, we could see the figures of the Indians as thej 
passed. Once more we were among them. They were 
moving with even more than their usual precipitation, 
crowded together in a narrow pass between rocks and old 
pine-trees. We were on the eastern descent of the moun- 
tain, and soon came to a rough and difficult defile, lead- 
ing down a very steep declivity. The whole swarm 
poured down together, filling the rocky passage-way like 
some turbulent mountain-stream. The mountains before 
us were on fire, and had been so for weeks. The view in 
front was obscured by a vast dim sea of smoke, while 
on either hand rose the tall cliffs, bearing aloft their 
crests of pines, and the sharp pinnacles and broken 
ridges of the mountains beyond were faintly traceable as 
through a veil. The scene in itself was grand and im- 
posing, but with the savage multitude, the armed war- 
riors, the naked children, the gayly apparelled girls, 
pouring impetuously down the heights, it would have 
formed a noble subject for a painter, and only the pen 
of a Scott could have done it justice in description. 

We passed over a burnt tract where the ground was 
hot beneath the horses' feet, and between the blazing sides 
of two mountains. Before long we had descended to a 
softer region, where we found a succession of little valleys 
watered by a stream, along the borders of which grew 
abundance of wild gooseberries and currants, and the 
children and many of the men straggled from the line of 

18 



274 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

march to gather them as we passed along. Descending 
still farther, the view changed rapidly. The burning 
mountains were behind us, and through the open valleys 
in front we could see the prairie, stretching like an ocean 
beyond the sight. After passing through a line of trees 
that skirted the brook, the Indians filed out u\K)Ii the 
plains. I was thirsty and knelt down by the little stream 
to drink. As I mounted again, I very carelessly left mj 
rifle among the grass, and my thoughts being otherwise 
absorbed, I rode for some distance before discovering its 
absence. I lost no time in turning about and galloping 
back in search of it. Passing the line of Indians, 1 
watched every warrior as he rode by me at a canter, and 
at length discovered my rifle in the hands of one of them, 
who, on my approaching to claim it, immediately gave it 
up. Having no other means of acknowledging the obli 
gation, I took off one of my spurs and gave it to him. 
He was greatly delighted, looking upon it as a dis- 
tinguished mark of favor, and immediately held out his 
foot for me to buckle it on. As soon as I had done so, he 
struck it with all his force into the side of his horse, 
which gave a violent leap. The Indian laughed and 
spurred harder than before. At this the horse shot away 
like an arrow, amid the screams and laughter of the 
squaws, and the ejaculations of the men, who exclaimed: 
" Washtay I — Good!" at the potent effect of my gift. 
The Indian had no saddle, and nothing in place of a 
bridle except a leather string tied round the horse's jaw 
The animal was of course wholly uncontrollable, and 
stretched away at full speed over the prairie, till he and 
his rider vanished behind a distant swell. I never saw 
the man again, but I presume no harm came to him. An 
Indian on horseback has more lives than a cat. 

The village encamped on the scorching prairie, close 



PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS. 275 

to the foot of the mountains. The heat was most intense 
and ])enetrating. The coverings of the lodgings were 
raised a foot or more from the ground, in order to pro- 
cure some circulation of air ; and Rejnal thought proper 
to lay aside Ins trapper's dress of buckskin and assume 
the very scanty costume of an Indian. Thus elegantly 
attired, he stretched himself in his lodge on a buffalo- 
robe, alternately cursing the heat and puffing at the pipe 
which he and I passed between us. There was present 
also a select circle of Indian friends and relatives. A 
small boiled puppy was served up as a parting feast, to 
which was added, by way of dessert, a wooden bowl of 
gooseberries from the mountains. 

" Look there," said Reynal, pointing out of the opening 
of his lodge ; " do you see thnt line of buttes about fifteen 
miles off? Well, now do you sec that farthest one, with 
the white speck on the face of it ? Do you think you 
ever saw it before ? " 

" It looks to me," said I, " like the hill that we were 
'camped under when we were on Laramie Creek, six or 
eight weeks ago." 

" You've hit it," answered Reynal. 

" Go and bring in the animals, Raymond," said 1 ; 
" we'll camp there to-night, and start for the fort in the 
morning." 

The mare and the mule were soon before the lodge. 
We saddled them, and in the mean time a number of 
Indians collected about us. The virtues of Pauline, my 
strong, fleet, and hardy little mare, were well known in 
camp, and several of the visitors were mounted upon 
good horses which they had brought me as presents. I 
promptly declined their offers, since accepting them 
would have involved the necessity of transferring Pauline 
into their barbarous hands. We took leave of Reynal; 



276 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

but not of the Indians, who are accustomed to dispense 
with such superfluous ceremonies. Leaving the camp, 
we rode straight over the prairie towards the white-faced 
bluff, whose pale ridges swelled gently against the horizon, 
like a cloud. An Indian went with us, whose name 1 
forget, though the ugliness of his face and the ghastlj 
width of his mouth dwell vividly in my recollection. The 
antelope were numerous, but we did not heed them. 
We rode directly towards our destination, over the arid 
plains and barren hills ; until, late in the afternoon, half 
spent with heat, thirst, and fatigue, we saw a gladdening 
sight : the long line of trees and the deep gulf that mark 
the course of Laramie Creek. Passing through the 
growth of huge dilapidated old cotton-wood trees that 
bordered the creek, we rode across to the other side. 
The rapid and foaming waters were filled with fish play 
ing and splashing in the shallows. As we gained the 
farther bank, our horses turned eagerly to drink, and we, 
kneeling on the sand, followed their example. We had 
not gone far before the scene began to grow familiar. 

" We are getting near home, Raymond," said I. 

There stood the big tree under which we had encamped 
so long; there were the white cliffs that used to look 
down upon our tent when it stood at the bend of the 
creek : there was the meadow in which our horses had 
grazed for weeks, and a little farther on, the prairie-dog 
village where I had beguiled many a languid hour in 
shooting the unfortunate inhabitants. 

" We are going to catch it now," said Raymond, turn- 
ing his broad face up towards the sky. 

In truth the cliffs and the meadow, the stream and the 
groves, were darkening fast. Black masses of cloud were 
swelling up in the south, and the thunder was growling 
ominously. 



PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS. 211 

" We will 'camp there," I said, pointing^ to a dense 
grove of trees lower down the stream. Raymond and 1 
turned towards it, but the Indian stopped and called 
earnestly after us. When we demanded what was the 
matter, he said, that the ghosts of two warriors were 
always among those trees, and that if we slept there, they 
would scream and throw stones at us all night, and per- 
iiaps steal our horses before morning. Thinking it as 
well to humor him, we left behind us the haunt of these 
extraordinary ghosts, and passed on towards Chugwater, 
riding at full gallop, for the big drops began to patter 
down. Soon we came in sight of the poplar saplings 
that grew about the mouth of . the little stream. We 
leaped to the ground, threw off our saddles^ turned our 
horses loose, and drawing our knives began to slash 
among the bushes to cut twigs and branches for making 
a shelter against the rain. Bending down the taller 
saplings as they grew, we piled the young shoots upon 
them, and thus made a convenient pent-house ; but our 
labor was needless. The storm scarcely touched us. 
Half a mile on our right the rain was pouring down like 
a cataract, and the thunder roared over the prairie like a 
battery of cannon ; while we by good fortune received only 
a few heavy drops from the skirt of the passing cloud. 
The weather cleared and the sun set gloriously. Sitting 
close under our leafy canopy, we proceeded to discuss a 
substantial meal of ivasna which Weah-Washtay had given 
me. The Indian had brought with him his pipe and a 
bag of shongsasha; so before lying down to sleep, we 
3at for some time smoking together. First, however, 
our wide-mouthed friend had taken the precaution of 
carefully examining the neighborhood. He reported that 
eight men, counting them on his fingers, had been en- 
camped there not long before, — Bisonette, Paul Dorion, 



278 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

Antoine I^e Rouge, Richardson, and four others, whoso 
names he could not tell. All this proved strictlv correct. 
By what instinct he had arrived at such accurate con 
elusions, I am utterly at a loss to divine. 

It was still quite dark when I awoke and called Ray 
mond. The Indian was already gone, having chosen to go 
on before us to the fort. Setting out after him, we rode 
for some time in complete darkness, and when the sun at 
length rose, glowing like a fiery ball of copper, we were 
within ten miles of the fort. At length, from the summit 
of a sandy bluff we could see Fort Laramie, miles before 
us, standing by the side of the stream like a little gray 
speck, in the midst of the boundless desolation. I stopped 
my horse, and sat for a moment looking down upon. it. 
It seemed to me the very centre of comfort and civiliza- 
tion. We were not long in approaching it, for we rode at 
speed the greater part of the way. Laramie Creek still 
intervened between us and the friendly walls. Entering 
the water at the point where we had struck upon the bank, 
we raised our feet to the saddle behind us, and thus kneel- 
ing as it were on horseback, passed dry-shod through the 
swift current. As we rode up the bank, a number of men 
appeared in the gateway. Three of them came forward 
to meet us. In a moment I distinguished Shaw ; Henry 
Chatillon followed, with his face of manly simplicity and 
frankness, and Deslauriers came last, with a broad grin 
of welcome. The meeting was not on either side one of 
mere ceremony. For my own part, the change was a 
most agreeable one, from the society of savages and men 
little better than savages, to that of my gallant and high- 
minded companion, and our noble-hearted guide. My 
appearance was equally welcome to Shaw, who was be- 
ginning to entertain some very uncomfortable surmises 
concerning me. 



PASSAGE OF THE MOUNIAHSS. 279 

Bordeaux greeted me cordially, and shouted to the 
cook. This functionary was a new acquisition, having 
lately come from Fort Pierre with the trading wagons. 
Whatever skill he might have boasted, he had not the 
most promising materials to exercise it upon. He set 
before me, however, a breakfast of biscuit, coffee, and 
salt pork. It seemed like a new phase of existence, to 
be seated once more on a bench, with a knife and fork, a 
plate and teacup, and something resembling a table be- 
fore me. The coffee seemed delicious, and the bread was 
a most welcome novelty, since for three weeks I had tasted 
scarcely any thing but meat, and that for the most part 
without salt. The meal also had the relish of good com- 
pany, for opposite to me sat Shaw in elegant dishabille. 
If one is anxious thoroughly to appreciate the value of a 
congenial companion, he has only to spend a few weeks 
by himself in an Ogillallah village. And if he can con- 
trive to add to his seclusion, a debilitating and somewhat 
critical illness, his perceptions upon this subject will be 
rendered considerably more vivid. 

Shaw had been two or three weeks at the fort. I found 
liim established in his old quarters, a large apartment 
usually occupied by the absent bourgeois. In one corner 
was a soft pile of excellent buffalo-robes, and here I lay 
down. Shaw brought me three books. 

" Here," said he, " is your Shakspeare and Byron, and 
here is the Old Testament, which has as much poetry in 
it as the other two put together." 

I chose the worst of the three, and for the greater part 
of that day I lay on the buffalo-robes, fairly revellmg in the 
creations of that resplendent genius which has achieved 
no more signal triumph than that of half beguiling us te 
forget the unmanly character of its possessor. 



CHAPTER XX. 

THE LONELY JOURNEY. 

/ ^N the day of my arrival at Fort Laramie, Shaw and 
^^ I were lounging on two buffalo-robes in the large 
apartment hospitably assigned to us ; Henry Chatillon 
also was present, busy about the harness and weapons, 
which had been brought into the room, and two or three 
Indians were crouching on the floor, eying us with their 
fixed unwavering gaze. 

" I have been well off here," said Shaw, " in all respects 
but one ; there is no good shongsasha to be had for love 
or money." 

I gave him a small leather bag containing some of ex- 
cellent quality, which I had brought from the Black Hills, 
"Now, Henry," said he, " hand me Papin's chopping- 
board, or give it to that Indian, and let him cut the mix- 
ture ; they understand it better than any white man." 

The Indian, without saying a word, mixed the bark and 
the tobacco in due proportions, filled the pipe, and lighted 
it. This done, my companion and I proceeded to delib- 
erate on our future course of proceeding ; first, however, 
Shaw acquainted me with some incidents which had oc- 
curred at the fort during my absence. 

About a week before, four men had arrived from 
beyond the mountains: Sublette. Reddick, and two 
others. Just before reaching the fort, they had met a 
large party of Iniians, chiefly young men. All of them 



THE LONELY JOURNEY. 281 

belonged to the village of our old friend Smoke, who, 
with his whole band of adherents, professed the greatest 
friendship for the whites. The travellers therefore 
approached and began to converse without the least sus- 
picion. Suddenly, however, their bridles were seized, and 
they were ordered to dismount. Instead of complying, 
they lashed their horses, and broke away from the 
Indians. As they galloped off they heard a yell behind 
them, with a burst of derisive laughter, and the reports 
of several guns. None of them were hurt, though Red- 
dick's bridle-rein was cut by a bullet within an inch of 
his hand. After this taste of Indian manners, they felt 
for the moment no disposition to encounter farther risks. 
They intended to pursue the route southward along the 
foot of the mountains to Bent's Fort ; and as our plans 
coincided with theirs, they proposed to join forces. Find- 
ing, however, that I did not return, they grew impatient 
of inaction, forgot their late danger, and set out without 
us, promising to wait our arrival at Bent's Fort. From 
thence we were to make the long journey to the settle- 
ments in company, as the path was not a little dangerous, 
being infested by hostile Pawnees and Camanches. 

We expected, on reaching Bent's Fort, to find there 
still another reinforcement. A young Kentuckian had 
come out to the mountains with Russel's party of Califor- 
nia emigrants. One of his chief objects, as he gave out, 
was to kill an Indian ; an exploit which he afterwards 
succeeded in achieving, much to the jeopardy of our- 
selves, and others who had to pass through the country 
of the dead Pawnee's enraged relatives. Having become 
disgusted with his emigrant associates, he left them, and 
had some time before set out with a party of companions 
for the head of the Arkansas. He left us a letter, to say 
that he would wait until we arrived at Bent's Fort, and 



2b*2 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

accompany us thence to the settlements. When Low 
ever he came to the fort, he found there a party of forty 
men about to make the homeward journey, and wisely 
oreferred to avail himself of so strong an escort. Sub- 
lette and his companions also joined this company ; so 
that on reaching Bent's Fort, some six weeks after, we 
found ourselves deserted by our allies and thrown once 
more upon our own resources. 

On the fourth of August, early in the afternoon, we 
bade a final adieu to the hospitable gateway of Fort 
Laramie. Again Shaw and I were riding side by side on 
the prairie. For the first fifty miles wo had companions 
with, us : Trochd, a trapper, and Rouville, a nondescript 
in the employ of the Fur Company, ^ho were going to 
join the trader Bisonette at his encampment near the 
head of Horse Creek. We rode only six or eight miles 
that afternoon before we came to a little brook traversing 
the barren prairie. All along its course grew copses of 
young wild-cherry trees, loaded with ripe fruit, and almost 
concealing the gliding thread of water with their dense 
growth. Here we encamped ; and being too indolent to 
pitch our tent, we flung our saddles on the ground, spread 
a pair of buffalo-robes, lay down upon them, and began 
to smoke. Meanwhile Deslauriers busied himself with 
his frying-pan, and Raymond stood guard over the band 
of grazing horses. Deslauriers had an active assistant in 
Rouville, who professed great skill in the culinary art, 
and, seizing upon a fork, began to lend his aid in cooking 
supper. Indeed, according to his own belief, Rouville 
was a man of universal knowledge, and he lost no oppor- 
tunity to display his manifold accomplishments. He had 
been a circus-rider at St. Louis, and once he rode round 
Fort Laramie on his head, to the utter bewilderment of 
the Indians. He was also noted as the wit of the fort 



THE LONELY JOURNEY. 283 

and as he had considerable humor and abundant vivacity, 
he contributed more that night to the hveUness of the 
camp than all the rest of the party put together. At one 
instant he would kneel by Deslauriers, instructing him in 
the true method of frying antelope-steaks, then he would 
come and seat himself at our side, dilating upon the 
correct fashion of braiding up a horse's tail, telling 
apocryphal stories how he had killed a buffalo-l3ull with a 
knife, having first cut off his tail when at full speed, or 
relating whimsical anecdotes of the bourgeois Papin. At 
last he snatched up a volume of Shakspeare that was 
lying on tlie grass, and halted and stumbled through a 
line or two to prove that he could read. He went 
gambolling about the camp, chattering like some frolic- 
some ape ; and whatever he was doing at one moment, 
the presumption was a sure one that he would not be 
doing it the next. His companion Troche sat silently on 
the grass, not speaking a word, but keeping a vigilant eye 
on a very ugly little Utah squaw, of- whom he was ex- 
tremely jealous. 

On the next day we travelled farther, crossing the wide 
sterile basin called " Goch^'s Hole." Towards night we 
became involved among ravines ; and being unable to find 
water, our journey was protracted to a very late hour. 
On the next morning we had to pass a long line of bluffs, 
whose raw sides, wrought upon by rains and storms, were 
of a ghastly whiteness most oppressive to the sight. As 
^ve ascended a gap in these hills, the way was marked by 
huge foot-prints, like those of a human giant. They 
were iha tracks of the grizzly bear, of which we had also 
seen abundance on the day before. Immediately after 
this we were crossing a barren plain, spreading in long 
and gentle undulations to the horizon. Though the sun 
was bright, there was a li^ht haze in the atmosphere. 



284 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

The distant hills assumed strange, distorted forms in the 
mirage, and the edge of the horizon was conthiually 
changing its aspect. Shaw and I were riding together, 
and Henry Chatillon was a few rods before us, when he 
stopped his horse suddenly, and turning round with the 
peculiar earnest expression which he always wore when 
excited, called us to come forward. We galloped to his 
side. Henry pointed towards a black speck on the gray 
swell of the prairie, apparently about a mile off. " It 
must be a bear," said he ; " come, now we shall all have 
some sport. Better fun to fight him than to fight an old 
buffalo-bull ; grizzly bear so strong and smart." 

So we all galloped forward together, prepared for a hard 
fight ; for these bears, though clumsy in appearance, are 
incredibly fierce and active. The swell of the prairie 
concealed the black object from our view. Immediately 
after it appeared again. But now it seemed very near to 
us ; and as we looked at it in astonishment, it suddenly 
separated into two parts, each of which took wing and 
flew away. We stopped our horses and looked at Henry, 
whose face exhibited a curious mixture of mirth and 
mortification. His eye had been so completely deceived 
by the peculiar atmosphere, that he had mistaken two 
large crows at the distance of fifty rods for a grizzly bear 
a mile off. To the journey's end Henry never heard the 
last of the grizzly bear with wings. 

In the afternoon we came to the foot of a considerable 
hill. As we ascended it, RouA'ille began to ask questions 
concerning our condition and prospects at home, and 
Shaw was edifying him with an account of an imaginary 
wife and child, to which he listened with implicit faith 
Reaching the top of the hill, we saw the windings of 
Horse Creek on the plains below us, and a little on the 
left we could distinguish the camp of Bisonette among 



THE LONELY JOURNEY. 285 

the trees and copses along the course of the stream 
Rouville's face assumed just then a ludicrously blank 
expression. We inquired what was the matter ; when it 
appeared that Bisonette had sent him from this place to 
Fort Laramie with the sole object of bringing back a sup- 
ply Df tobacco. Our rattlebrain friend, from the time of 
his reaching the fort up to the present moment, had en 
tirely forgotten the object of his journey, and had ridden 
a dangerous hundred miles for nothing. Descending to 
Horse Creek, we forded it, and on the opposite bank a 
solitary Indian sat on horseback under a tree. He said 
nothing, but turned and led the way towards the camp. 
Bisonette had made choice of an admirable position. 
The stream, with its thick growth of trees, inclosed on 
three sides a wide green meadow, where about forty Dah- 
cotah lodges were pitched in a circle, and beyond them a 
few lodges of the friendly Shiennes. Bisonette himself 
Hved in the Indian manner. Riding up to his lodge, we 
found him seated at the head of it, surrounded by various 
appliances of comfort not common on the prairie. His 
squaw was near him, and rosy children were scrambling 
about in printed calico gowns ; Paul Dorion, also, with 
his leathery face and old white capote, was seated in the 
lodge, together with Antoine Le Rouge, a half-breed Paw 
nee, Sibille, a trader, and several other white men. 

" It will do you no harm,'' said Bisonette, " to stay 
here with us for a day or two, before you start for the 
Pueblo." ^^ 

We accepted the invitation, and pitched our tent on a 
rising ground above the camp and close to the trees. 
Bisonette soon invited us to a feast, and we suffered 
abundance of the same sort of attention from his Indian 
associates. The reader may possibly recollect that when 
I joined the Indian village, beyond the Black Hills, I 



28H THE OREGON TRAIL. 

found that a few families were absent, having decbned to 
pass the mountains along with the rest. The Indians in 
Bisonette's camp consisted of these very families, and 
many of them came to me that evening to inquire after 
their relatives and friends. They were not a little morti- 
fied to learn that while they, from their own timidity anc' 
indolence, were almost in a starving condition, the rest 
of the village had provided their lodges foi* the next sea- 
son, laid in a great stock of provisions, and were living 
in abundance. Bisonette's companions had been sustain- 
ing themselves for some time on wild cherries, which the 
squaws pounded, stones and all, and spread on buffalo- 
robes to dry in the sun ; they were then eaten without 
farther preparation, or used as an ingredient in various 
delectable compounds. 

On the next day, the camp was in commotion with a 
new arrival. A single Indian had come with his family 
from the Arkansas. As he passed among the lodges, he 
put on an expression of unusual dignity and importance, 
and gave out that he had brought great news to tell the 
whites. Soon after the squaws had pitched his lodge, he 
sent his Httle son to invite all the white men, and all the 
more distinguished Indians to a feast. The guests arrived 
and sat wedged together, shoulder to shoulder, within the 
hot and suffocating lodge. The Stabber, for that was our 
entertainer's name, had killed an old buffalo bull on his 
way. This veteran's boiled tripe, tougher than leather, 
formed the main item of the repast. For the rest, it 
consisted of wild cherries and grease boiled together in 
a large copper kettle. The feast was distributed, and for 
a moment all was silent, strenuous exertion ; then each 
guest, though with one or two exceptions, turned his 
wooden dish bottom upwards to prove that he had done 
full justice to his entertainer's hospitality The Stabber 



THE LONELY JOURNEY. W] 

fle^t produced his chopping-board, on which he prepared 
tht; mixture for smoking, and filled several pipes, which 
circulated among the company. This done, he seated 
himself upright on his couch, and began with much ges- 
ticulation to tell his story. I will not repeat his childish 
jargon. It was so entangled, like the greater uart of an 
Indian's stories, with absurd and contradictory, details, 
that it was almost impossible to disengage from it a single 
particle of truth. All that we could gather was the 
following : — 

He had been on the Arkansas, and there he had seen 
six great war-parties of whites. He had never believed 
before that the whole world contained half so many white 
men. They all had large horses, long knives, and short 
rifles, and some of them were dressed alike in the most 
splendid war-dresses he had ever seen. From this account 
it was clear that bodies of dragoons and perhaps also of 
volunteer cavalry had passed up the Arkansas. The 
Stabber had also seen a great many of the white lodges 
of the Meneaska, drawn by their long-horned buffalo. 
These could be nothing else than covered ox-wagons used 
no doubt in transporting stores for the troops. Soon 
after seeing this, our host had met an Indian who had 
lately come from among the Camanches, who had told 
him that all the Mexicans had gone out to a great buffalo 
hunt ; that the Americans had hid themselves in a ravine ; 
end that when the Mexicans had shot away all their ar- 
rows, the Americans fired their guns, raised their war- 
whoop, rushed out, and killed them all. We could only 
infer from this, that war had been declared with Mexico, 
and a battle fought in which the Americans were victori- 
ous. When some weeks after, we arrived at the Pueblo, 
we heard of General Kearney's march up the Arkansas, 
and of General Taylor's victories at Mat^ moras. 



288 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

As the sun was setting that evening a crowd gathered 
on the plain by the side of our tent, to try the speed of 
their horses. These were of every shape, size, and color. 
Some came from California, some from the States, some 
from among the mountains, and some from tlie wild bands 
of the prairie. They were of every hue, white, black, red, 
and gray, or mottled and clouded with a strange variety 
of colors. They all had a wild and startled look, very 
different from the sober aspect of a well-bred city steed. 
Those most noted for swiftness and spirit were decorated 
with eagle feathers dangling from their manes and tails. 
Fifty or sixty Dahcotah were present, wrapped from head 
to foot in their heavy robes of whitened hide. There 
were also a considerable number of the Shiennes, many 
of whom wore gaudy Mexican ponchos, swathed around 
their shoulders, but leaving the right arm bare. Mingled 
among the crowd of Indians was a number of Canadians, 
chiefly in the employ of Bisonette ; men, whose home is 
the wilderness, and who love the camp-fire better than the 
domestic hearth. They are contented and happy in the 
midst of hardship, privation, and danger. Their cheer- 
fulness and gayety is irrepressible, and no people on earth 
understand better how " to daff the world aside and bid 
it pass." Besides these, were two or three half-breeds, a 
race of rather extraordinary composition, being according 
to the common saying half Indian, half white man, and 
half devil. Antoine Le Rouge was the most conspicuous 
among them, with his loose trousers and fluttering calico 
shirt. A handkerchief was bound round his head to con- 
fine his black snaky hair, and his small eyes twinkled 
beneath it with a mischievous lustre. He had a fine 
cream-colored horse, whose speed he must needs try along 
with the rest. So he threw off the rude high-peaked 
saddle, and substituting a piece of buffalo-robe, leaped 



THE LONELY JOURNEY 289 

lightly into his seat. The space was cleared, the word 
was given, and he and his Indian rival darted out like 
lightning from among the crowd, each stretching forward 
over his horse's neck and plying his heavy Indian whip 
with might and main. A moment, and both were lost 
in the gloom ; but Antoine soon came riding back victori- 
ous, exultingly patting the neck of his quivering and pant- 
ing horse. 

About midnight, as I lay asleep, wrapped in a buffalo- 
robe on the ground by the side of our cart, Raymond 
came and woke me. Something he said was going for 
ward which I would like to see. Looking down into the 
camp, I saw on the farther side of it a great number of 
Indians gathered about a fire, the bright glare of which 
made them visible through the thick darkness ; while 
from the midst proceeded a loud, measured chant which 
would have killed Paganini outright, broken occasionally 
hf a burst of sharp yells. I gathered the robe around me, 
for the night was cold, and walked down . to the spot. 
The dark throng of Indians was so dense that they almost 
intercepted the light of the flame. As I was pushing 
among them with little ceremony, a chief interposed him- 
self, and I was given to understand that a white man must 
not approach the scene of their solemnities too closely. 
By passing round to the other side where there was a little 
opening in the crowd, I could see clearly what was going 
forward, without intruding my unhallowed presence into 
the inner circle. The society of the "Strong Hearts" 
were engaged in one of their dances. The " Strong 
Hearts" are a warlike association, comprising men of 
both the Dahcotah and Shienne nations, and entirely 
composed, or supposed to be so, of young braves of the 
highest mettle. Its fundamental principle is the admir- 
able one of never retreating from any enterprise once 

19 



290 THE OREGON TRAIL, 

begun. All these Indian associations have a tutelarj 
spirit. That of the Strong Hearts is embodied in the 
fox, an animal which white men would hardly have 
salected for a similar purpose, though his subtle charac- 
ter agrees well enough with an Indian's notions of what 
is honorable in warfare. The dancers were circling round 
and round the fire, each figure brightly illumined at one 
moment by the yellow light, and at the next drawn in 
blackest shadow as it passed between the flame and the 
spectator. They would imitate with the most ludicrous 
exactness the motions and voice of their sly patron the 
fox. Then a startling yell would be given. Many 
other warriors would leap into the ring, and with faces 
upturned towards the starless sky, they would all stamp, 
and whoop, and brandish their weapons like so many 
frantic devils. 

We remained here till the next afternoon. My com 
panion and I with our three attendants then set out for 
the Pueblo, a distance of three hundred miles, and we 
supposed the journey would occupy about a fortnight. 
During this time we all hoped that we might not meet a 
single human being, for should we encounter any, they 
would in all probability be enemies, in whose eyes our 
rifles would be our only passports. For the first two 
days nothing worth mentioning took place. On the third 
morning, however, an untoward incident occurred. We 
were encamped by the side of a little brook in an exten- 
sive hollow of the plain. Deslauriers was up long before 
daylight, and before he began to prepare breakfast he 
turned loose all the horses, as in duty bound. There was 
a cold mist clinging close to the ground, and by the time 
the rest of us were awake the animals were invisible. It 
was only after a long and anxious search that we could 
discover by their tracks the direction they had taken 



THE LONELY JOURNEY. 291 

They had all set off for Fort Laramie, following the guid- 
ance of a mutinous old mule, and though many of them 
were hobbled, they travelled three miles before they could 
be overtaken and driven back. 

For two or three da} s, we were passing over an arid 
desert. The only vegetation was a few tufts of short 
grass, dried and shrivelled by the heat. There was abun- 
dance of strange insects and reptiles. Huge crickets, black 
and bottle green, and wingless grasshoppers of the most 
extravagant dimensions, were tumbling about our horses' 
feet, and lizards without number darting like lightning 
among the tufts of grass. The most curious animal, how- 
ever, was that commonly called the horned-frog. I caught 
one of them and consigned him to the care of Deslauriers, 
who tied him up in a moccasin. About a month after 
this, I examined the prisoner's condition, and finding him 
still lively and active, I provided him with a cage of 
buffalo-hide, which was hung up in the cart. In this man- 
ner he arrived safely at the settlements. From thence he 
travelled the whole way to Boston, packed closely in a 
trunk, being regaled with fresh air regularly every night. 
When he reached his designation he was deposited under 
a glass case, where he sat for some months in great tran 
quillity, alternately dilating and contracting his white 
tliroat to the admiration of his visitors. At length, one 
iiorning about the middle of winter, he gave up the ghost, 
and he now occupies a bottle of alcohol in the Agassiz 
Museum. His death was attributed to starvation, a very 
probable conclusion, since for six months he had taken 
no food whatever, though the sympathy of his juvenile ad- 
mirers had tempted his palate with a great variety of del- 
icacies. We found also animals of a 'somewhat larger 
growth. The number of prairie-dogs was astounding. 
Frequently the hard and dry plain was thickly covered, 



292 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

for miles together, with the little mounds which they make 
at the mouth of their burrows, and small squeaking voices 
yelped at us, as we passed along. The noses of the in- 
habitants were just visible at the mouth of their holes, but 
no sooner was their curiosity satisfied than they would 
instantly vanish. Some of the bolder dogs — though in 
fact they are no dogs at all, but little marmots rather 
smaller than a rabbit — would sit yelping at us on the top 
of their mounds, jerking their tails emphatically with ev- 
ery shrill cry they uttered. As the danger drew nearer 
they would wheel about, toss their heels into the air, and 
dive in a twinkling into their burrows. Towards sunset, 
and especially if rahi was threatening, the whole commu- 
nity made their appearance above ground. We saw them 
gathered in large knots around the burrow of some favo- 
rite citizen. There they would all sit erect, their tails 
spread out on the ground, and their paws hanging down 
before their white breasts, chattering and squeaking with 
the utmost vivacity upon some topic of common interest, 
while the proprietor of the burrow sat on the top uf his 
mound, looking down with a complacent countenance on 
the enjoyment of his guests. Meanwhile, others ran about 
from burrow to burrow, as if on some errand of the last 
importance to their subterranean commonwealth. The 
snakes are apparently the prairie-dog's worst enemies ; at 
least I think too well of the latter to suppose that they as- 
sociate on friendly terms with these slimy intruders, which 
may be seen at all times basking among their holes, into 
which they always retreat when disturbed. Small owls, 
with wise and grave countenances, also make their abode 
with the prairie-dogs, though on what terms they hve 
together I could 'never ascertain. 

On the fifth day after leaving Bisonette*s camp, we saw, 
late in the afternoon, what we supposed to be a consider 



THE LONELY JOURNEY. 293 

able stream, but on approaching it, we found to our mor- 
tification nothing but a dry bed of sand, into which the 
water had sunk and disappeared. We separated, some 
riding in one direction and some in another, along its 
course. Still we found no traces of water, not even so 
much as a wet spot in the sand. The old cotton- wood 
trees that grew along the bank, lamentably abused by' 
lightning and tempest, were witliering with the drought, 
and on the dead limbs, at the summit of the tallest, half 
a dozen crows were hoarsely cawing, like birds of evil 
omen. We had no alternative but to keep on. There 
was no water nearer than the South Fork of the Platte, 
about ten miles distant. We moved forward, angry and 
silent, over a desert as flat as tl>e outspread ocean. 

The sky had been obscured since the morning by thin 
mists and vapors, but now vast piles of clouds were 
gathered together in the west. They rose to a great 
height above the horizon, and looking up at them I dis- 
tinguished one mass darker than the rest, and of a pecu 
liar conical form. I happened to look again, and still 
could see it as before. At some moments it was dimly 
visible, at others its outline was sharp and distinct ; but 
while the clouds around it were shifting, changing, and 
dissolving away, it still towered aloft in the midst of them, 
fixed and immovable. It must, thought I, be the summit 
of a mountain ; and yet its height staggered me. My con- 
clusion was right, however. It was Long's Peak, once 
believed to be one of the highest of the Rocky Mountain 
chain, though more recent discoveries have proved the 
contrary. The thickening gloom soon hid it from view, 
and we never saw it again, for on the following day, and 
for some time after, the air was so full of mist that the 
view of distant objects was entirely cut off. 

It grew very late. Turning from our direct course, we 



294 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

made for the river at its nearest point, though in the utter 
darkness it was not easy to direct our way with much 
precision. Raymond rode on one side and Heniy on the 
other. We heard each of them shouting that he had come 
upon a deep ravine. We steered at random between 
Scylla and Charybdis, and soon after became as it seemed 
inextricably involved with deep chasms all around us, 
while the darkness was such that we could not see a red 
in any direction. We partially extricated ourselves by 
scrambling, cart and all, through a shallow ravine. We 
came next to a steep descent, down which we plunged 
without well knowing what was at the bottom. There 
was a great cracking of sticks and dry twigs. Over our 
heads were certain large shadowy objects ; and in front 
something like the faint gleaming of a dark sheet of 
water. Raymond ran his horse against a tree ; Henr^ 
alighted, and, feeling on the ground, declared that there 
was grass enough for the horses. Before taking off his 
saddle, each man led his own horses down to the water 
in the best way he could. Then picketing two or three 
of tlie evil-disposed, we turned the rest loose, and lay 
down among the dry sticks to sleep. In the morning we 
found ourselves close to the South Fork of the Platte, on 
a spot surrounded by bushes and rank grass. Compen- 
sating ourselves with a hearty breakfast, for the ill-fare of 
the previous night, we set forward again on our journey. 
When only two or three rods from the camp I saw Shaw 
stop his mule, level his gun, and fire at some object in the 
grass. Deslauriers next jumped forward, and began to 
dance about, belaboring the unseen enemy with a whip. 
Then he stooped down, and drew out of the grass by the 
neck an enormous rattlesnake, with his head completely 
shattered by Shaw's bullet. As Deslauriers held him out 
at arm's length with an exulting grin, his tail, which still 



THE LONELY JOURNEY. 295 

Kept slowiy writhing about, almost touched the ground ^ 
and his body in the largest part was as thick as a stout 
man's arm. He had fourteen rattles, but the end of his 
tail was blunted, as if he could once have boasted of many 
more. From this time till we reached the Pueblo, we 
killed at least four or five of these snakes every day, as 
they lay coiled and rattling on the hot sand. Shaw was 
the Saint Patrick of the party, and whenever he killed a 
snake he pulled off his tail and stored it away in his bul- 
let-pouch, which was soon crammed with an edifying col- 
lection of rattles, great and small. Deslauriers with his 
whip also came in for a share of praise. A day or two 
after this, he triumphantly produced a small snake about 
a span and a half long, with one infant rattle at the end 
of his tail. 

We forded the South Fork of the Platte. On its 
farther bank were the traces of a very large camp of 
Arapahoes. The ashes of some three hundred fires were 
visible among the scattered trees, together with the re- 
mains of sweating lodges, and all the other appurte- 
nances of a permanent camp. The place, however, had 
been for some months deserted. A few miles farther 
on we found more recent signs of Indians ; the trail of 
two or three lodges, which had evidently passed the day 
before ; every footprint was perfectly distinct in the dry, 
dusty soil. We noticed in particular the track of one 
moccasin, upon the sole of which its economical pro- 
prietor had placed a large patch. These signs gave us 
but little uneasiness, as the number of the warriors 
scarcely exceeded that of our own party. At noon we 
rested under the walls of a large fort, built in these soli- 
tudes some years since by M. St. Yrain. It was now 
abandoned and fast falling into ruin. The walls of un- 
baked bricks were cracked from top to bottom Om 



2yb THE OREGON TRAIL. 

horses recoiled in terror from the neglected entrance, 
where the heavy gates were torn from their hinges and 
flung down. The area within was overL .own with weeds, 
and the long ranges of apartments once occupied by the 
motley concourse of traders, Canadians, and squaws, were 
now miserably diiapidated. Twelve miles farther on, near 
tlie spot where we encamped, were the remains of another 
fort, standing in melancholy desertion and neglect. 

Early on the following morning we made a startling 
discovery. We passed close by a large deserted encamp- 
ment of Arapahoes, There were about fifty fires still 
smouldering on the ground, and it was evident from numer- 
ous signs that the Indians must have left the place within 
two hours of our reaching it. Their trail crossed our 
own, at right angles, and led in the direction of a line of 
hills, half a mile on our left. There were women and 
children in the party, which would have greatly dimin 
ished the danger of encountering them. Henry Chatillon 
examined the encampment and the trail with a very 
professional and business-like air. 

*' Supposing we had met them, Henry ? " said I. 

'' Why," said he, " we hold out our hands to them, and 
give them all we've got; they take away every thing, 
and then I believe they no kill us. Perhaps," added he, 
looking up with a quiet unchanged face, "perhaps we 
no let them rob us. Maybe before they come near, we 
have a chance to get into a ravine, or under the bank of 
the river ; then, you know, we fight them." 

About noon on that day we reached Cherry Creek. 
Here was a great abundance of wild-cherries, plums, 
gooseberries, and currants. The stream, however, like 
most of the others which we passed, was dried up with 
the heat, and we had to dig holes in the sand to find 
water for ourselves and our horses. Two days after, we 



THE LONELY JOURNEY. 297 

ief[ the banks of the creek, which we had been following 
for some time, and began to cross the high dividing ridge 
which separates the waters of the Platte from those of 
the Arkansas. The scenery was altogether changed. In 
place of the burning plains, we passed through rough and 
savage glens, and among hills crowned with a dreary 
growth of pines. We encamped among these solitudes 
on the night of the sixteenth of August. A tempest was 
threatening. The sun went down among volumes of jet- 
black cloud, edged with a bloody red. But in spite of 
these portentous signs, we neglected to put up the tent, 
and, being extremely fatigued, lay down on the ground 
and fell asleep. The storm broke about midnight, and 
we pitched the tent amid darkness and confusion. In the 
morning all was fair again, and Pike's Peak, white witli 
snow, was towering above the wilderness afar off. 

We pushed through an extensive tract of pine woods 
Large black-squirrels were leaping among the branches. 
From the farther edge of this forest we saw the prairie 
again, hollowed out before us into a vast basin, and about 
a mile in front we could discern a little black speck 
moving upon its surface. It could be nothing but a buf- 
falo. Henry primed his rifle afresh and galloped forward. 
To the left of the animal was a low rocky mound, of 
which Henry availed himself in making his approach 
After a short time we heard the faint report of the rifle 
The bull, mortally wounded from a distance of nearly 
three hundred yards, ran wildly round and round in a 
circle. Shaw and I then galloped forward, and passing 
him as he ran, foaming with rage and pain, discharged 
our pistols into his side. Once or twice he rushed furi- 
ously upon us, but his strength was rapidly exhausted. 
Down he fell on his knees. For one instant he glared up 
at his enemies, with burning eyes, through his black 



298 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

tangled mane, and then rolled over on his side. Though 
gaunt and thin, he was larger and heavier than the 
largest ox. Foam and blood flew together from his nos- 
trils as he lay bellowing and pawing the ground, tearing 
up grass and earth with his hoofs. His sides rose and fell 
like a vast pair of bellows, the blood spouting up in jets 
from the bullet-holes. Suddenly his glaring eyes became 
like a lifeless jelly. He lay motionless on the ground. 
Henry stooped over him, and, making an incision with his 
knife, pronounced the meat too rank and tough for use ; 
so disappointed in our hopes of an addition to our stock 
of provisions, we rode away and left the carcass to the 
wolves. 

In the afternoon we saw the mountains rising like a 
gigantic wall at no great distance on our right. " Bes 
sauvages ! des sauvages! " exclaimed Deslauriers, looking 
round with a frightened face, and pointing with his whip 
towards the foot of the mountains. In fact, we could see 
at a distance a number of little black specks, like horse 
men in rapid motion. Henry Chatillon, with Shaw and 
myself, galloped towards them to reconnoitre, when to 
our amusement we saw the supposed Arapahoes resolved 
into the black tops of some pine-trees which grew along 
a ravine. The summits of these pines, just visible above 
the verge of the prairie, and seeming to move as we our- 
selves were advancing, looked exactly like a line of 
horsemen. 

We encamped among ravines and hollows, througli 
which a little brook was foaming angrily. Before sunrise 
in the morning the snow-covered mountains were beauti- 
fully tinged with a delicate rose color. A noble spectacle 
awaited us as we moved forward. Six or eight miles on 
our right. Pike's Peak and his giant brethren rose out of 
the level prairie, as if springing from the bed of the 



THE LONELY JOURNEY. '-^^B 

ocean From their summits down to the plain below 
they were involved in a mantle of clouds, in restless 
motion, as if urged by strong winds. For one Distant 
some snowy peak, towering in awful solitude, would be 
disclosed to view. As the clouds broke along the moun 
tain, we could see the dreary forests, the tremendous 
precipices, the white patches of snow, the gults and 
chasms as black as night, all revealed for an mstant, 
and then disappearing from the view. 

On the day after, we had left the mountains at some 
distance. A black cloud descended upon them, and a 
tremendous explosion of thunder followed, reverberatmg 
among the precipices. In a few moments every thmg 
grew black, and the rain poured down like a cataract. 
We got under an old cotton-wood tree, which stood by 
the side of a stream, and waited there till the rage of 
the torrent had passed. 

The clouds opened at the point where they first had 
gathered, and the whole sublime congregation of moun- 
tains was bathed at once in warm sunshine. They seemed 
more like some vision of eastern romance than like a 
reality of that wilderness ; all were melted together into 
a soft delicious blue, as voluptuous as the sky of Naples 
or the transparent sea that washes the sunny cliffs of 
Capri. On the left the sky was still of an inky blackness ; 
but two concentric rainbows stood in bright relief against 
it, while far in front the ragged clouds still streamed 
before the wind, and the retreating thunder muttered 

angrily. 

Through that afternoon and the next morning we were 
passing down the banks of the stream, called " Boiling 
Spring Creek," from the boiUng spring whose waters 
flow into it. When we stopped at noon, we were within 
six or eight miles of the Pueblo. Setting out again, we 



3(»0 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

found by the fresh tracks that a horseman had just been 
out to reconnoitre us ; he had circled half round the camp, 
and then galloped back at full speed for the Pueblo. 
What made him so shy of us we could not conceive. 
After an hour's ride we reached the edge of a hill, from 
w^hich a welcome sight greeted us. The Arkansas ran 
along the valley below, among woods and groves, and 
closely nestled in the midst of wide corn-fields and green 
meadows, where cattle were grazing, rose the low mud 
walls of the Pueblo. 



CHAPTER XXI. 

THE PUEBLO AND BENT'S FORT. 

"XIC 7E approached the gate of the Pueblo. It was a 
^ ^ wretched species of fort, of most primitive cwi- 
struction, being nothing more than a large square iu- 
closure, surrounded bj a wall of mud, miserably cracked 
and dilapidated. The slender pickets that surmounted 
it were half broken down, and the gate dangled on its 
wooden hinges so loosely, that to open or shut it seemed 
likely to fling it down altogether. Two or three squalid 
Mexicans, with their broad hats, and their vile faces over- 
grown with hair, were lounging about the bank of the 
river in front of it. They disappeared as they saw us 
approach ; and as we rode up to the gate, a light active 
little figure came out to meet us. It was our old friend 
Richard. He had come from Fort Laramie on a trading 
expedition to Taos ; but finding when he reached the 
Pueblo that the war would prevent his going farther, he 
was quietly waiting till the conquest of the country should 
allow him to proceed. He seemed to feel bound to do the 
honors of the place. Shaking us warmly by the hand, he 
led the way into the area. 

Here we saw his large Santa ¥6 wagons standing to- 
gether. A few squaws and Spanish women, and a few 
Mexicans, as mean and miserable as the place itself, were 
lazily sauntering about. Richard conducted us to the 
state apartment of the Pueblo, a small mud room, verj 



S02 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

neatly finished, considering the material, and garnished 
with a crucifix, a looking-glass, a picture of the Virgin, 
and a rusty horse-pistol. There were no chairs, but in- 
stead of them a number of chests and boxes ranged about 
the room. There was another room beyond, less sumptu- 
ously decorated, and here three or four Spanish girls, one 
of them very pretty, were baking cakes at a mud fire- 
place in the corner. They brought out a poncho, which 
they spread upon the floor by way of table-cloth. A 
supper, which seemed to us luxurious, was soon laid out 
upon it, and folded buffalo-robes were placed around it to 
receive the guests. Two or three Americans besides our- 
selves were present. We sat down in Turkish fashion, 
and began to ask the news. Richard told us that, about 
three weeks before. General Kearney's army had left 
Bent's Fort to march against Santa Fe ; that when last 
heard from they were approaching the defiles that led to 
the city. One of the Americans produced a dingy news- 
paper, containing an account of the battles of Palo Alto 
and Resaca de la Palma. While we were discussing 
these matters, the doorway was darkened by a tall, 
shambling fellow, who stood with his hands in his pockets 
taking a leisurely survey of the premises before he entered. 
He wore brown homespun trousers, much too short for 
his legs, and a pistol and bowie-knife stuck in his belt. 
His head and one eye were enveloped in a huge bandage 
of linen. Having completed his observations, he came 
slouching in, and sat down on a chest. Eight or ten 
more of the same stamp followed, and very coolly arrang- 
ing tlicmselves about the room, began to stare at t]ie 
company. We were forcibly reminded of the Oregon 
emigrants, though these unwelcome visitors had a certain 
glitter of the eye, and a compression of the lips, which 
distinguished them from our old acquaintances of the 



THE PUEBLO AND BENT's FORT. 303 

prairie. They began to catechise us at once, inquiring 
whence we had come, what we meant to do next, and 
what were our prospects in life. 

The man with the bandaged head had met with an un- 
toward accident a few days before. He was going down 
to the river to bring water, and was pushing through the 
young willows which covered the low ground when he 
came unawares upon a grizzly bear, which, having just 
eaten a buffalo-bull, had lain down to sleep off the meal 
The bear rose on his hind legs, and gave the intruder 
such a blow with his paw that he laid his forehead en- 
tirely bare, clawed off the front of his scalp, and narrowly 
missed one of his eyes. Fortunately lie was not in a very 
pugnacious mood, being surfeited with his late meal. 
The man's companions, who were close behind, raised a 
shout, and the bear walked away, crushing down the 
willows in his leisurely retreat. 

These men belonged to a party of Mormons, who, out 
of a well-grounded fear of the other emigrants, had post- 
poned leaving the settlements until all the rest were gone. 
On account of this delay, they did not reach Fort Laramie 
until it was too late to continue their journey to California. 
Hearing that there was good land at the head of the 
Arkansas, they crossed over under tlie g-uidance of Rich 
ard, and were now preparing to spend the winter at a 
spot about half a mile from the Pueblo. 

When we took leave of Richard it was near sunset. 
Passing out of the gate, we could look down the little 
valley of the Arkansas ; a beautiful scene, and doubly so 
to our eyes, so long accustomed to deserts and mountains. 
Tall woods lined the river, with green meadows on either 
hand; and high bluffs, quietly basking in the sunlight, 
flanked the narrow valley. A Mexican on horseback 
was driving a herd of cattle towards the gate, and our 



304 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

little white tent, which the men had pitched u/ider a tree 
in tlie meadow, made a pleasing feature in the scene. 
When we reached it, we found that Richard had sent a 
Mexican to bring us an abundant supply of green corn 
and vegetables, and invite us to help ourselves to what- 
ever we wanted from the fields around the Pueblo. 

The inhabitants were in daily apprehension of an in- 
road from more formidable consumers than we. Every 
year, at the time when the corn begins to ripen, the 
Arapahoes, to the number of several thousands, come 
and encamp around the Pueblo. The handful of white 
men, who are entirely at the mercy of this swarm of 
barbarians, choose to make a merit of necessity ; they 
come forward very cordially, shake them by the hand, and 
tell them that the harvest is entirely at their disposal. 
The Arapahoes take them at their word, help themselves 
most liberally, and usually turn their horses into the 
cornfields afterwards. They have the foresight, however, 
to leave enough of the crops untouched to serve as an 
inducement for planting the fields again for their benefit 
in the next spring. 

The human race in this part of the world is separated 
into three- divisions, arranged in the order of their merits : 
white men, Indians, and Mexicans ; to the latter of whom 
the honorable title of " whites " is by no means conceded. 

In spite of the warm sunset of that evening the next 
morning was a dreary and cheerless one. It rained 
steadily, clouds resting upon the very tree-tops. We 
crossed the river to visit the Mormon settlement. As 
we passed through the water, several trappers on horse- 
back entered it from the other side. Their buckskin 
frocks were soaked through by the rain, and clung fast to 
their limbs with a most clammy and uncomfortable look. 
The water was trickling down their faces, and dropping 



305 

from the ends of their rifles and from the traps which 
each carried at the pommel of his saddle. Horses and all, 
they had a disconsolate and woe-begone appearance, which 
we could not help laughing at, forgetting how often we 
ourselves had been in a similar plight. 

After half an hour's riding, we saw the white wagons 
of the Mormons drawn up among the trees. Axes were 
sounding, trees falling, and log-huts rising along the edge 
of the woods and upon the adjoining meadow. As wc 
came up, the Mormons left their work, seated themselves 
on the timber around us, and began earnestly to discuss 
points of theology, complain of the ill-usage they had 
received from the " Gentiles," and sound a lamentation 
over the loss of their great temple of Nauvoo. After 
remaining with them an hour we rode back to our camp, 
happy that the settlements had been delivered from the 
presence of such blind and desperate fanatics. 

On the following morning we left the Pueblo for Bent's 
Fort. The conduct of Raymond had lately been less 
satisfactory than before, and we had discharged him as 
soon as we arrived at the former place , ?o that the party, 
ourselves included, was now reduced to four. There was 
some uncertainty as to our future course. The trail be- 
tween Bent's Fort and the settlements, a distance com- 
puted at six hundred miles, was at this time in a dangerous 
state ; for since the passage of General Kearney's army, 
great numbers of hostile Indians, chiefly Pawnees and 
Camanches, had gathered about some parts of it. They 
became soon after so numerous and audacious, that 
scarcely a single party, however large, passed between 
the fort and the frontier without some token of their 
hostility. The newspapers of the time sufiiciently dis- 
play this state of things. Many men were killed, and 
great numbers of horses and mules carried off. Not long 

20 



306 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

since I met with a young man, who, during the autumn, 
came from Santa F^ to Bent's Fort, where he found a 
part}^ of seventy men, who thought themselves too weak 
to go down to the settlements alone, and were waiting 
there for a reinforcement. Though this excessive timidity 
proves the ignorance of the men, it may also evince the 
state of alarm which prevailed in the country. When 
we were there in the month of August, the danger had 
not become so great. There was nothing very attractive 
in the neighborhood. We supposed, moreover, that we 
might wait there half the winter without finding any 
party to go down with us ; for Sublette and the others 
whom we had relied upon had, as Richard told us, already 
left Bent's Fort. Thus far on our journey Fortune had 
kindly befriended us. We resolved therefore to take ad- 
vantage of her gracious mood, and trusting for a continu- 
ance of her favors, to set out with Henry and Deslauriers. 
and run the gauntlet of the Indians in the best way we 
could. 

Bent's Fort stands on the river, about seventy-five miles 
below the Pueblo. At noon of the third day we arrived 
within three or four miles of it, pitched our tent under a 
tree, hung our looking-glasses against its trunk, and hav- 
ing made our primitive toilet, rode towards the fort. Wo 
soon came in sight of it, for it is visible from a consider- 
able distance, standing with its high clay walls in the 
midst of the scorching plains. It seemed as if a swarm 
of locusts had invaded the country. The grass for miles 
around was cropped close by the horses of General Kear- 
ney's soldiery. When we came to the fort, we found that 
not only had the horses eaten up the grass, but their 
owners had made way with the stores of the little trading 
post ; so that we had great difficulty in procuring the 
few articles which we required for our homeward journey 



THE PUEBLO AND BENT's FORT. 307 

The army was gone, the life and bustle passed away, and 
the fort was a scene of dull and lazy tranquillity. A few 
invalid officers and soldiers sauntered about the area, 
which was oppressively hot ; for the glaring sun was re- 
flected down upon it from the high white walls around. 
The proprietors were absent, and w^e were received by Mr. 
Holt, who had been left in charge of the fort. He invited 
us to dinner, where, to our admiration, we found a table 
laid with a white cloth, with castors in the middle, and 
chairs placed around it. This unwonted repast con- 
cluded, we rode back to our camp. 

Here, as we lay smoking round the fire after supper, 
we saw through the dusk three men approaching from the 
direction of the fort. They rode up and seated them 
selves near us on the ground. The foremost was a tall, 
well-formed man, with a face and manner such as inspire 
confidence at once. He wore a broad hat of felt, slouch 
ing and tattered, and the rest of his attire consisted of a 
frock and leggins of buckskin, rubbed with the yellow 
clay found among the mountains. At the heel of one of 
his moccasins was buckled a huge iron spur, with a rowel 
five or six inches in diameter. His horse, which stood 
quietly looking over his head, had a rude Mexican saddle, 
covered with a shaggy bear-skin, and furnished with a 
pair of wooden stirrups of preposterous size. The next 
man was a sprightly, active little fellow, about five feel 
and a quarter high, but very strong and compact. His 
face was swarthy as a Mexican's, and covered with a close, 
curly, black beard. An old, greasy, calico handkerchief 
was tied round his head, and his close buckskin dress was 
blackened and polished by grease and hard service. The 
last who came up was a large, strong man, dressed in the 
coarse homespun of the frontiers, who dragged his long 
limbs over the ground as if he were too lazy for the efibrt. 



308 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

He had a sleepy gray eye, a retreating ohm, an open 
mouth, and a protruding upper lip, which gave him an 
air of exquisite indolence and helplessness. He was 
armed with an old United States yager, which redoubt- 
able weapon, though he could never hit his mark with it, 
he was accustomed to cherish as the very sovereign of 
firearms. 

The first two men belonged to a party who had just 
come from California, with a large band of horses, which 
they had sold at Bent's Fort. Munroe, the taller of the 
two, was from Iowa. He was an excelleiit fellow, open, 
warm-hearted, and intelligent. Jim Gurney, the short 
man, was a Boston sailor, who had come in a trading ves- 
sel to California, and taken the fancy to return across the 
continent. The journey had already made him an ex- 
pert " mountain-man," and he presented the extraordinary 
phenomenon of a sailor who understood how to manage a 
horse. The third of our visitors, named Ellis, was a 
Missourian, who had come out with a party of Oregon 
emigrants, but having got as far as Bridger's Fort, he 
had fallen home-sick, or as Jim averred, love-sick. He 
thought proper therefore to join the California men, and 
return homeward in their company. 

They now requested that they might unite with our 
party, and make the journey to the settlements in com- 
pany with us. We readily assented, for we liked the 
appearance of the first two men, and were very glad to 
gain so efficient a reinforcement. We told them to 
meet us on the next evening at a spot on the river side, 
about six miles below the fort. Having smoked a pipe 
together, our new allies left us, and we lay down to 
aleep. 



CHAPTER XXII. 

TETE ROUGE, THE VOLUNTEER. 

'"T^HE next morning, having directed Deslauriers to re- 
-*- pair with his cart to the place of meeting, we came 
again to the fort to make some arrangements for the 
journej. After completing these we sat down under a 
sort of porch, to smoke with some Shienne Indians whom 
we found there. In a few minutes we saw an extraordi- 
nary little figure approach us in a military dress. He 
had a small, round countenance, garnislied about the 
eyes with the kind of wrinkles commonly known as 
crow's feet, and surmounted by an abundant crop of red 
curls, with a little cap resting on the top of them. Alto- 
gether, he had the look of a man more conversant with 
mint-juleps and oyster suppers than with the hardships of 
prairie-service. He came up to us and entreated that we 
would take him home to the settlements, saying that un- 
less he went with us he should have to stay all winter at 
the fort. We liked our petitioner's appearance so little, 
that we excused ourselves from complying with his re- 
quest. At this he begged us so hard to take pity on 
h_m, looked so disconsolate, and told so lamentable a 
stc»ry, that at last we consented, though not without many 
misgivings. 

The rugged Anglo-Saxon of our new recruit's real 
name proved utterly unmanageable on the lips of our 
French attendants; and Henry Chalillon, after various 



310 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

abortive attempts to pronounce it, one day coollv christ- 
ened liim Tete Rouge, in honor of his red curls. He had 
at different times been clerk of a Mississippi steamboat, 
and agent in a trading establishment at Nauvoo, besides 
filling various other capacities, in all of which he had 
seen much more of " life " than was good for him. In 
the spring, thinking that a summer's campaign would be 
an agreeable recreation, he had joined a company of St, 
Louis volunteers. 

" There were three of us," said Tete Rouge, '' me and 
Bill Stephens and John Hopkins. We thought we would 
just go out with the army, and when we had conquered 
the country, we would get discharged and take our pay, 
you know, and go down to Mexico. They say there's 
plenty of fun going on there. Then we could go back to 
New Orleans by way of Yera Cruz." 

But Tete Rouge, like many a stouter volunteer, had 
reckoned without his host. Fighting Mexicans was a less 
amusing occupation than he had supposed, and his plea- 
sure trip was disagreeably interrupted by brain fever, 
which attacked him when about half Avay to Bent's Fort. 
He jolted along through the rest of the journey in a 
baggage-wagon. When they came to the fort he was 
taken out and left there, with the rest of the sick. Bent's 
Fort does not supply the best accommodations for an 
invalid. Tete Rouge's sick-chamber was a little mud 
room, where he and a companion, attacked by the same 
disease, were laid together, with nothing but a buffalo - 
robe between them and the ground. The assistant 
surgeon's deputy visited them once a day and brought 
them each a huge dose of calomel, the only medicine, 
according to his surviving victim, with which he was 
acquainted. 

Tete Rouge woke one morning, and turning to his com 



TETE ROUGE, THE VOLUNTEER. 311 

panion saw his eyes fixed upon the beams above with the 
glassy stare of a dead man. At this the unfortunate vol- 
unteer lost his senses outright. In spite of the doctor, 
however, he eventually recovered ; ' though between the 
brain fever and the calomel, his mind, originally none of 
the strongest, was so much shaken that it had not quite 
recovered its balance when we came to the fort. In 
spite of the poor fellow's tragic story, there was some- 
thing so ludicrous in his appearance, and the whimsical 
contrast between his military dress and his most unmili- 
tary demeanor, that we could not help smiling at them. 
We asked him if he had a gun. He said they had taken 
it from him during his illness, and he had not seen it 
since ; but " perhaps," he observed, looking at me with a 
beseeching air, " you will lend me one of your big pistols 
if we should meet with any Indians." I next inquired if 
he had a horse ; lie declared he had a magnificent one, 
and at Sliaw's request, a Mexican led him in for inspec- 
tion. He exhibited the outline of a good horse, but his 
eyes were sunk in the sockets, and every one of his ribs 
could be counted. There were certain marks too about 
his shoulders, which could be accounted for by the cir- 
cumstance, that during Tete Rouge's illness, his compan- 
ions had seized upon the insulted charger, and harnessed 
him to a cannon along with the draft horses. To Tete 
Rouge's astonishment we recommended him by all means 
to exchange the horse, if he could, for a mule. Fortu- 
nately the people at the fort were so anxious to get rid 
of him that they were willing to make some sacrifice to 
effect the object, and he succeeded in getting a tolerable 
mule in exchange for the broken-down steed. 

A man soon appeared at the gate, leading in the mule 
by a cord, which he placed in the hands of Tete Rouge, 
who, being somewhat ti.^raid of his new acquisition, tried 



312 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

various flatteries and blandishments to induce her to 
come forward. The mule, knowing that she was expected 
to advance, stopped short in consequence, and stood fast 
as a rock, looking straight forward with immovable com- 
posure. Being stimulated by a blow from behind, she 
consented to move, and walked nearly to the other side 
of the fort before she stopped again. Hearing the by- 
standers laugh, Tete Rouge plucked up spirit and tugged 
hard at the rope. The mule jerked backward, spun her- 
self round, and made a dash for the gate. Tete Rouge, 
who clung manfully to the rope, went whisking through 
the air for a few rods, when he let go and stood with 
his mouth open, staring after the mule, which galloped 
away over the prairie. She was soon caught and brought 
oack by a Mexican, who mounted a horse and went in 
pursuit of her with his lasso. 

Having thus displayed his capacities for prairie travel- 
ling, Tete Rouge proceeded to supply himself with provi- 
sions for the journey, and with this view applied to a 
quarter-master's assistant who was in the fort. This 
official had a face as sour as vinegar, being in a state of 
chronic indignation because he had been left behind the 
army. He was as anxious as the rest to get rid of Tete 
Rouge. So, producing a rusty key, he opened a low door 
which led to a half subterranean apartment, into which 
the two disappeared together. After some time they came 
out again, Tete Rouge greatly embarrassed by a multi- 
plicity of paper parcels contaimng the different articles of 
his forty days' rations. They were consigned to, the care 
of Deslauriers, who about that tifne passed by with the cart 
on his way to the appointed place of meeting with Mun- 
roe and his companions. 

We next urged Tete Rouge to provide himself, if he 
could, with a gun. He accordingly made earnest appeaL? 



TETE ROUGE, THE VOLUNTEER. 313 

CO the chanty of various persons in the fort, but totally 
without success, a circumstance which did not greatly 
disturb us, since in the event of a skirmish, he would be 
more apt to do mischief to himself or his friends than to 
the enemy. When all these arrangements were com- 
pleted, we saddled our horses, and were preparing to 
leave the fort, when looking round we discovered that 
our new associate was in fresh trouble. A man was hold- 
ing the mule for him in the middle of the fort, while he 
tried to put the saddle on her back, but she kept stepping 
sideways and moving round and round in a circle until 
he was almost in despair. It required some assistance 
before all his difficulties could be overcome. At length 
he clambered into the black war-saddle on which he was 
to have carried terror into the ranks of the Mexicans. 

" Get up," said Tete Rouge ; " come now, go along, will 
you." 

The mule walked deliberately forward out of the gate. 
Her recent conduct had inspired him with so much awe, 
that he never dared to touch her with his whip. We 
trotted forward toward the place of meeting, but before 
we had gone far,, we saw that Tete Rouge's mule, who 
perfectly understood her rider, had stopped and was quietly 
grazing in spite of his protestations, at some distance 
behind. So getting behind hun, we drove him and the 
contumacious mule before us, until we could see througii , 
the twilight the gleaming of a distant fire. Munroe, 
Jim, and Ellis were lying around it ; their saddles, packs, 
and weapons were scattered about, and their horses 
picketed near them. Deslauriers was there too with our 
little cart. Another fire was soon blazing. We invited 
our new allies to take a cup of cofiee with us. When 
both the others had gone over to their side of the camp, 
Jim Gurney still stood by the blaze, puffing hard at 



314 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

his little black pipe, as short and weather-beaten as him- 
self. 

" Well," he said, " here are eight of us ; we'll call it 
six — for them two boobies, Ellis over yonder, and that 
new man of yours, won't count for any thing. We'll get 
through well enough, never fear for that, unless the Cam- 
anches happen to get foul of us*" 



CHAPTER XXIU. 

INDIAN ALARMS. 

VIIT'B began our journey for the settlements on the 
^ ^ twenty-seventh of August, and certainly a more 
ragamuffni cavalcade never was seen on the banks of the 
Upper Arkansas. Of the large and fine horses with 
which we had left the frontier in the spring, not one re- 
mained : we had supplied their place with the rough breed 
of the prairie, as hardy as mules and almost as ugly ; we 
had also with us a number of the latter detestable animals. 
In spite of their strength and hardihood, several of the band 
were already worn down by hard service and hard fare, and 
as none of them were shod, they were fast becoming foot- 
sore. Every horse and mule had a cord of twisted bull- 
hide coiled about his neck, which by no means added to 
the beauty of his appearance. Our saddles and all our 
equipments were worn and battered, and our weapons had 
become dull and rusty. The dress of the riders corre- 
sponded with the dilapidated furniture of our horses, and 
of the whole party none made a more disreputable ap- 
pearance than my friend and I. Shaw had for an upper 
garment an old red flannel shirt, flying open in front, and 
belted around him like a frock ; while I, in absence of 
other clothing, was attired in a time-worn suit of buck- 
skin. 

Thus, happy and careless as so many beggars, we crept 
slowly from day to day along the monotonous banks of 



316 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

the Arkansas. T^te Rouge gave constant trouble, for lie 
could never catch his mule, saddle her, or indeed do any 
thing else without assistance. Every day he had some 
new ailment, real or imaginary, to complain of. At one 
moment he would be woe-begone and disconsolate, and at 
the next he would be visited with a violent flow of spirits, 
to which he could only give vent by incessant laughing, 
whistling, and telling stories. When other resources 
failed, we used to amuse ourselves by tormenting him ; a 
fair compensation for the trouble he cost us. Tete Rouge 
rather enjoyed being laughed at, for he was an odd com- 
pound of weakness, eccentricity, and good-nature. He 
made a figure worthy of a painter as he paced along be- 
fore us, perched on the back of his mule, and enveloped 
in a huge buffalo-robe coat, which some charitable person 
had given him at the fort. This extraordinary garment, 
which would have contained two men of his size, he chose, 
for some reason best known to himself, to wear inside out, 
and he never took it off, even in the hottest weather. It 
was fluttering all over with seams and tatters,' and the 
hide was so old and rotten that it broke out every day in 
a new place. Just at the top of it a large pile of red curls 
was visible, with his little cap set jauntily upon one side, 
to give him a military air. His seat in the saddle was 
no less remarkable than his person and equipment. He 
pressed one leg close against his mule's side, and thrust 
the other out at an angle of forty-five degrees. His 
trousers were decorated with a military red stripe, of 
which he was extremely vain ; but being much too short, 
the whole length of his boots was usually visible below 
them. His blanket, loosely rolled up into a large bundle, 
dangled at the back of his saddle, where he carried it tied 
with a string. Four or five times a day it would fall to 
the ground. Every few minutes he would drop his pipe, 



1 INDIAN ALARMS. 317 

his knife, his flint and steel, or a piece of tobacco, and 
scramble down to pick them up. In doing this he would 
contrive to get in everybody's way ; and as most of the 
party were by no means remarkable for a fastidious choice 
of language, a storm of anathemas would be showered 
upon him, half in earnest and half in jest, until Tete 
Rouge would declare that there was no comfort in life, 
and that he never saw such fellows before. 

Only a day or two after leaving Bent's Fort, Henry 
Chatillon rode forward to hunt, and took Ellis along with 
him. After they had been some time absent we saw them 
coming down the hill, driving three dragoon-horses, which 
had escaped from their owners on the march, or perhaps 
had given out and been abandoned. One of them was in 
tolerable condition, but the others were much emaciated 
and severely bitten by the wolves. Reduced as they were, 
we carried two of them to the settlements, and Henry 
exchanged the third with the Arapahoes for an excellent 
mule. 

On the day after, when we had stopped to rest at noon, 
a long train of Santa Fe wagons came up and trailed 
slowly past us in their picturesque procession. They be- 
longed to a trader named Magoffin, whose brother, with 
a number of other men, came and sat down with us on 
the grass. The news they brought was not of the 
most pleasing complexion. According to their accounts, 
the trail below was in a very dangerous state. They had 
repeatedly detected Indians prowling at night around their 
camps ; and the large party which had left Bent's Fort a 
few weeks before us had been attacked, and a man named 
Swan, from Massachusetts, had been killed. His com- 
panions had buried the body ; but when Magoffin found 
his grave, which was near a place called " The Caches." 
the Indians had dug up and scalped him, and the wolves 



318 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

had shockingly mangled his remains. As an offset to 
this intelligence, they gave us the welcome information 
that the buffalo were numerous at a few days' journey 
below. 

On the next afternoon, as we moved along the bank of 
the river, we saw the white tops of wagons on the horizon. 
It was some hours before we met them, when they proved 
to be a train of clumsy ox-wagons, quite different from 
the rakish vehicles of the Santa F^ traders, and loaded 
with govej^nment stores for the troops. They all stopped, 
and the drivers gathered aromid us in a crowd. Many 
of them were mere boys, fresh from the plough. In re- 
spect to the state of the trail, they confirmed all that the 
Santa F^ men had told us. In passing between the Paw- 
nee Fork and the Caches, their sentinels had fired every 
night at real or imaginary Indians. They said also that 
Ewing, a young Kentuckian in the party that had gone 
down before us, had shot an Indian who was prowling at 
evening about the camp. Some of them advised us to 
turn back, and others to hasten forward as fast as we 
could ; but they all seemed in such a state of feverish 
anxiety, and so little capable of cool judgment, that we 
attached slight weight to what they said. They next gave 
us a more definite piece of intelligence : a large village of 
Arapahoes was encamped on the river below. They rep- 
resented them to be friendly ; but some distinction was to 
be made between a party of thirty men, travelling with 
oxen, which are of no value in an Indian's eyes, and a 
mere handful like ourselves, with a tempting band of 
mules and horses. 

Early in the afternoon of the next day, looking along 
the horizon before us, we saw that at one point it was 
faintly marked with pale indentations, like the teeth of a 
saw. The distant lodges of the Arapahoes, rising be- 



mDIAN ALARMS. 819 

tween us and the sky, caused this singular appearance 
It wanted still two or three hours of sunset when we came 
opposite their camp. There were full two hundred lodges 
standing in the midst of a grassy meadow at some dis- 
tance beyond the river, while for a mile around on both 
banks of the Arkansas were scattered some fifteen hun 
dred horses and mules, grazing together in bands, oi 
wandering singly about the prairie. The whole were visi 
ble at once, for the vast expanse was unbroken by hills, 
and there was not a tree or a bush to intercept the view 

Here and there walked an Indian, engaged in watching 
the liorses. No sooner did we see them than Tete Rouge 
begged Deslauriers to stop tlie cart and hand him his 
military jacket, which was stowed away there. In this he 
invested himself, having for once laid the old buffalo-coat 
aside, assumed a martial posture in the saddle, set his 
cap over his left eye with an air of defiance, and earnestly 
entreated that somebody would lend him a gun or a 
pistol only for half an hour. Being called upon to explain 
these proceediugs, Tete Rouge observed, that he knew 
from experience what effect the presence of a military 
man in his uniform always has upon the mind of an 
Indian, and he thought the Arapahoes ought to know that 
there was a soldier in the party. 

Meeting Ampahoes here on the Arkansas was a very 
different thing from meeting the same Indians among 
their native mountains. There was another circumstance 
in our favor. General Kearney had seen them a few 
weeks before, as he came up the river with his army, and, 
renewing his threats of the previous year, he told them 
that if they ever again touched the hair of a white man's 
head he would exterminate their nation. This placed 
them for the time in an admirable frame of mind, and 
the effect of his menaces had not yet disappeared. I 



:3*20; THE OREGON TRAIL. 



wished to see the village and its inhabitants. We thought 
it also our best policy to visit them openly, as if unsus- 
picious of any hostile design; and Shaw and I, with 
Henry Chatillon, prepared to cross the river. The rest 
of the party meanwhile moved forward as fast as they 
could, in order to get as far as possible from our suspicious 
neighbors before night came on. 

The Arkansas at this point, and for several hundred 
miles below, is nothing but a broad sand-bed, over which 
glide a few scanty threads of water, now and then expand- 
ing into wide shallows. At several places, during the 
autumn, the water sinks into the sand and disappears 
altogether. At this season, were it not for the numerous 
quicksands, the river might be forded almost anywhere 
without difficulty, though its channel is often a quarter 
of a mile wide. Our horses jumped down the bank, and 
wading through the water, or galloping freely over the 
hard sand-beds, soon reached the other side. Here, as 
we were pushing through the tall grass, we saw several 
Indians not far off; one of them waited until we came up, 
and stood for some moments in perfect silence before us, 
looking at us askance with his little snake-like eyes. 
Henry explained by signs what we wanted, and the Indian, 
gathering his buffalo-robe about his shoulders, led the way 
towards the village without speaking a word. 

The language of the Arapahoes is so difficult, and its 
pronunciation so harsh and guttural, that no white man, 
it is said, has ever been able to master it. Even Max- 
well, the trader who has been most among them, is com- 
pelled to resort to the curious sign-language common to 
most of the prairie tribes. With this sign-language Henry 
Chatillon was perfectly acquainted. 

Approaching the village, we found the ground strewn 
with piles of waste buffalo-meat in incredible quantiti(?s 



INDIAN ALARMS., ^2l 

The lodges were pitched in a circle. They resembled 
those of the Dahcotah in every thing but cleanliness. 
Passing between two of them, we entered the great 
circular area of the camp, and instantly hundreds of 
Indians, men, women, and children, came flocking out 
of their habitations to look at us ; at the same time, the 
dogs all around the village set up a discordant baying. 
Our Indian guide walked towards the lodge of the chief. 
Here we dismounted ; and loosening the trail-ropes from 
our horses' necks, held them fast as we sat down before 
the entrance, with our rifles laid across our laps. The 
chief came out and shook us by the hand. He was a 
mean-looking fellow, very tall, thin-visaged, and sinewy, 
like the rest of the nation, and with scarcely a vestige of 
clothing. We had not been seated a moment before a 
multitude of Indians came crowding around us from every 
part of the village, and we were shut in by a dense wall 
of savage faces. Some of our visitors crouched around us 
on the ground ; others sat behind them ; others, stoop- 
ing, looked over their heads; while many more stood 
behind, peering over each other's shoulders, to get a 
view of us. I looked in vain among this throng of faces 
to discover one manly or generous expression ; all were 
wolfish, sinister, and malignant, and their complexions, 
as well as their features, unlike those of the Dahcotah, 
were exceedingly bad. The chief, who sat close to the 
entrance, called to a squaw within the lodge, who soon 
oame out and placed a wooden bowl of meat before us. 
To our surprise, however, no pipe was offered. Having 
tasted of the meat as a matter of form, I began to open 
a buixlle of presents, — tobacco, knives, vermilion, and 
other articles which I had brought with me. At this 
there was a grin on every countenance in the rapacious 
crowd; their eyes began to glitter, and long thin arms 

21 



322 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

were eagerly stretched towards us on all sides to receive 
the gifts. 

The Arapahoes set great value upon their shields, 
which they transmit carefully from father to son. 1 
wished to get one of them ; and displaying a large piece 
of scarlet cloth, together with some tobacco and a knife, 
I offered them to any one who would bring me what I 
wanted. After some delay a tolerable shield was pra 
duced. They were very anxious to know what we meant 
to do with it, and Henry told them that we were going tc 
fight their enemies the Pawnees. This instantly pro- 
duced a visible impression in our favor, which was in- 
creased by the distribution of the presents. Among 
these was a large paper of awls, a gift appropriate to the 
women ; and as we were anxious to see the beauties of 
the Arapahoe village, Henry requested that they might 
be called to receive them. A warrior gave a shout, as if 
he were calling a pack of dogs together. The squaws, 
young and old, hags of eighty and girls of sixteen, came 
running with screams and laughter out of the lodges; 
and as the men gave way for them, they gathered round 
us and stretched out their arms, grinning with delight. 
their native ugliness considerably enlianced by the ex 
citement of the moment. 

Mounting our horses, which during the whole inter- 
view we had held close to us, we prepared to leave the 
Arapahoes. The crowd fell back on each side, and stood 
looking on. When we were half across the camp an 
idea occurred to us. The Pawnees were probably in the 
neighborhood of the Caches ; we might tell the Arapa- 
hoes of this, and instigate them to send down a war-party 
and cut them off, while we ourselves could remain behind 
for a while and hunt the buffalo. At first thought, this 
plan of setting our enemies to destroy one another seemed 



INDIAN ALARMS. 32.3 

to as a master-piece of policy ; but we Immediately recol- 
lected that should we meet the Arapahoe warriors on the 
river below, they might pi ove quite as dangerous as the 
Pawnees themselves. So rejecting our plan as soon as it 
presented itself, we passed out of the village on the 
farther side. We urged our horses rapidly through the 
tall grass, which rose to their necks. Several Indians 
were walking through it at a distance, their heads just 
visible above its waving surface. It bore a kind of seed, 
as sweet and nutritious as oats ; and our hungry horses, 
in spite of whip and rein, could not resist the temptation 
of snatching at this unwonted luxury as we passed along. 
When about a mile from the village, I turned and looked 
back over the undulating ocean of grass. The sun was 
just set ; the western sky was all in a glow, and sharply 
defined against it, on the extreme verge of the plain, 
stood the clustered lodges of the Arapahoe camp. 

Reaching the bank of the river, we followed it for 
some distance farther, until we discerned through the 
twilight the white covering of our little cart on the oppo- 
site bank. When we reached it we found a considerable 
number of Indians there before us. Four or five of them 
were seated in a row upon the ground, looking like so 
many half-starved vultures. Tete Rouge, in his uniform, 
was holding a close colloquy with another by the side of 
the cart. Finding his signs and gesticulation of no avail, 
he tried to make the Indian understand him by repeating 
English words very loudly and distinctly again and again. 
The Indian sat with his eye fixed steadily upon him, and 
in spite of the rigid immobility of his features, it was 
clear at a glance that he perfectly understood and despised 
his military companion. The exhibition was more amus- 
ing than politic, and Tete Rouge was directed to finisJi 



;^24 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

what he had to say as soon as possible. Thus rebuked, 
he crept under the cart and sat down there ; Henry Cha- 
tillon stooped to look at him in his retirement, and re- 
marked in his quiet manner that an Indian would kill ten 
such men and laugh all the time. 

One bj one our visitors arose and stalked away. As 
the darkness thickened we were saluted by dismal sounds. 
The wolves are incredibly numerous in this part of the 
country, and the offal around the Arapahoe camp had 
drawn such multitudes of them together that several 
hundreds were howling in concert in our immediate 
neighborhood. There was an island in the river, or 
rather an oasis in the" midst of the sands, at about the 
distance of a gun-shot, and here they seemed to be 
gathered in the greatest numbers. A horrible discord of 
low mournful wailings, mingled with ferocious howls, 
arose from it incessantly for several hours after sunset. 
We could distinctly see the wolves running about the 
prairie within a few rods of our fire, or bounding over the 
sand-beds of the river and splashing through the water. 
There was not the slightest danger from them, for they 
are the greatest cowards on the prairie. 

In respect to the human wolves in our neighborhood, 
we felt much less at our ease. That night each man 
spread his buffalo-robe upon the ground with his loaded 
rifle laid at his side or clasped in his arms. Our horses 
were picketed so close around us that one of them re- 
peatedly stepped over me as I lay. We were not in the 
habit of placing a guard, but every man was anxious and 
watchful : there was little sound sleeping in camp, and 
some one of the party was on his feet during the greater 
part of the night. For myself, I lay alternately waking 
and dozing until midnight. Tete Rouge was reposing 



INDIAN ALARMS. 



325 



close to the river bank, and about this time, when half 
asleep and half awake, I was conscious that he shifted 
his position and crept on all-fours under the cart. Soon 
after I fell into a sound sleep, from which I was roused 
by a hand shaking me by the shoulder. Looking up, I 
saw Tete Rouge stooping ovci me with a pale face and 
dilated eyes. 

" What's the matter ? " said I. 

Tete Rouge declared that as he lay on the river bank, 
something caught his eye which excited his suspicions. 
So creeping under the cart for safety's sake, he sat there 
and watched, when he saw two Indians, wrapped in white 
robes, creep up the bank, seize upon two horses and lead 
them off. He looked so frightened and told his story in 
such a disconnected manner that I did not believe him, 
and was unwilling to alarm the party. Still it might be 
true, and in that case the matter required instant atten- 
tion. So directing Tete Rouge to show me which way 
the Indians had gone, I took my rifle, in obedience to a 
thoughtless impulse, and left the camp. I followed the 
river bank for two or three hundred yards, listening and 
looking anxiously on every side. In the dark prairie on 
the right I could discern nothing to excite alarm ; and in 
the dusky bed of the river, a wolf was bounding along 
in a manner which no Indian could imitate. I returned 
to the camp, and when within sight of it, saw that the 
whole party was aroused. Shaw called out to me that he 
had counted the horses, and that every one of them 
was in his place. Tete Rouge being examined as to 
what he had seen, only repeated his former story 
with many asseverations,- and insisted that two horses 
were certainly carried off. At this Jim Gurney declared 
that he was crazy ; Tete Rouge indignantly denied the 



^'^^ THE OREGON TRAIL. 



Charge, on which Jim appealed to us. As we declined to 
give our judgment on so delicate a matter, the dispute 
grew hot between Tete Rouge and his accuser, until he 
was directed to go to bed and not alarm the camp again 
If he saw the whole Arapahoe village coming. 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE CHASE. 



THE country before us was now thronged with buffalo, 
and a sketch of the manner of hunting them will 
not be out of place. There are two methods commonly 
practised, ^'running" and "approaching." The chase 
on horseback, which goes by the name of '' running," is 
the more violent and dashing mode of the two, that is to 
say, when the buffalo are in one of their wild moods ; for 
otherwise it is tame enough. A practised and skilful 
hunter, well mounted, will sometimes kill five or six cows 
in a single chase, loading his gun again and again as his 
horse rushes through the tumult. In attacking a small 
band of buffalo, or in separating a single animal from the 
herd and assaihng it apart from the rest, there is less 
excitement and less danger. In fact, the animals are at 
times so stupid and lethargic that there is little sport in 
killing them. With a bold and well-trained horse the 
hunter may ride so close to the buffalo that as they gallop 
side by side he may touch him with his hand ; nor is there 
much danger in this as long as the buffalo's strength and 
breath continue unabated; bu,t when he becomes tired 
and can no longer run with ease, when his tongue lolls 
out and the foam flies from his jaws, then the hunter had 
better keep a more respectful distance; the distressed 
brute may turn upon him at any instant; and especially 
at the moment when he fires his gun. The horse thea 



328 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

leaps aside, and the hunter has need of a tenaviious seat 
in the saddle, for if he is thrown to the ground there is 
no hope for him. When he sees his allack defeated the 
buffalo resumes his flight, but if the shot is well directed 
he soon stops ; for a few moments he stands still, then 
totters and falls heavily upon the prairie. 

Tie chief difficulty in running buffalo, as it seems to 
me, is that of loading the gun or pistol at full gallop. 
Many hunters for convenience' sake carry three or four 
bullets in the mouth; the powder is poured down the 
muzzle of the piece, the bullet dropped in after it, th( 
stock struck hard upon the pommel of the saddle, and 
the work is done. The danger of this is obvious. Should 
the blow on the pommel fail to send the bullet home, or 
should the bullet in the act of aiming, start from its place 
and roll towards the muzzle, the gun would probably burst 
in discharging. Many a shattered hand and worse casual- 
ties beside have been the result of such an accident. To 
obviate it, some hunters make use of a ramrod, usually 
hung by a string from the neck, but this materially 
increases the difficulty of loading. The bows and ar- 
rows which the Indians use in running buffalo have many 
advantages over firearms, and even white men occasionally 
employ them. 

The danger of the chase arises not so much from the 
onset of the wounded animal as from the nature of the 
ground which the hunter must ride over. The prairie 
does not always present a smooth, level, and uniform sur- 
face ; very often it is broken with hills and hollows, inter- 
sected by ravines, and in the remoter parts studded by 
the stiff wild-sage bushes. The most formidable obstruc- 
tions, however, are the burrows of wild animals, wolves, 
badgers, and particularly prairie-dogs, with whose holes 
the ground for a very great extent is frequently honey- 



THE CHASE. 329 

combed. In the blindness of the chase the hunter rushes 
over it unconscious of danger; his horse, at full career, 
thrusts his leg deep into one of the burrows ; the bone 
snaps, the rider is hurled forward to the ground and prob- 
ably killed. Yet accidents in buffalo running happen 
less frequently than one would suppose ; in the reckless- 
ness of the chase, the hunter enjoys all the impunity of a 
drunken man, and may ride in safety over gullies and 
declivities, where, should he attempt to pass in his sobei 
senses he would infallibly break his neck. 

The method of '' approaching," being practised on foot, 
has many advantages over that of " running ; " in the 
former, one neither breaks down his horse nor endangers 
his own life ; he must be cool, collected, and watchful ; 
must understand the buffalo, observe the features of the 
country and the course of the wind, and be well skilled 
in using the rifle. The buffalo are strange animals ; 
sometimes they are so stupid and infatuated that a man 
ma}- walk up to them in full sight on the open prairie, 
and even shoot several of their number before the rest 
will think it necessary to retreat. At another moment 
they will be so shy and wary, that in order to approach 
them the utmost skill, experience, and judgment are neces- 
sary. Kit Carson, I believe, stands pre-eminent in run- 
ning buffalo ; in approaching, no man living can bear 
away the palm from Henry Chatillon. 

After Tete Rouge had alarmed the camp, no farther 
disturbance occurred during the night. The Arapahoes 
did not attempt mischief, or if they did the wakefulness 
of the party deterred them from effecting their purpose. 
Tlie next day was one of activity and excitement, for 
about ten o'clock the man in advance shouted the glad- 
dening cry of hiffalo, buffalo! and in the hollow of the 
prairie just below us, a band of bulls were grazing. The 



'VSi) THE OREGON TRAIL 

temptation was irresistible, and Shaw and I rode down 
upon them. We were badly mounted on our travelling 
horses, but by hard lashing we overtook them, and Shaw 
running alongside a bull, shot into him both balls of 
his double-barrelled gun. Looking round as I galloped 
by, I saw the bull in his mortal fury rushing again 
and again upon his antagonist, whose horse constantly 
leaped aside, and avoided the onset. My chase was 
more protracted, but at length I ran close to the bull and 
killed him with my pistols. Cutting off the tails of 
our victims by way of trophy, we rejoined the party in 
about a quarter of an hour after we had left it. Again 
and again that morning rang out the same welcome cry 
of buffalo, buffalo ! Every few moments, in the broad 
meadows along the river, we saw bands of bulls, who, 
raising their shaggy heads, would gaze in stupid amaze- 
ment at the approaching horsemen, and then breaking 
into a clumsy gallop, file off in a long line across the 
trail in front, towards the rising prairie on the left. At 
noon, the plain before us was alive with thousands of 
buffalo — bulls, cows, and calves — all moving rapidly as 
we drew near; and far off beyond the river the swelling 
prairie was darkened with them to the very horizon. The 
party was in gayer spirits than ever. We stopped for a 
nooning near a grove of trees by the river. 

" Tongues and hump-ribs to-morrow," said Shaw, look- 
ing with contempt at the venison steaks which Deslauriers 
placed before us. Our meal finished, we lay down to 
sleep. A shout from Henry Chatillon aroused us, and 
we saw him standing on the cart-wheel, stretching his 
tall figure to its full height while he looked towards the 
prairie beyond the river. Following the direction of his 
eyes, we could clearly distinguish a large dark object, 
like the black shadow of a cloud, passing rapidly over 



THE CHASE. 331 

swell after swell of the distant plain ; behind it followed 
another of similar appearance though smaller, moving 
more rapidly, and drawing closer and closer to the first. 
It was the hunters of the Arapahoe camp chasing a band 
of buffalo. Shaw and I caught and saddled our best 
horses, and went plunging through sand and water to the 
farther bank. We were too late. The hunters had 
already mingled with the herd, and the work of slaughter 
was nearly over. When we reached the ground we found 
it strewn far and near with numberless carcasses, while 
the remnants of the herd, scattered in all directions, were 
flying away in terror, and the Indians still rushing in 
pursuit. Many of the hunters however remained upon 
the spot, and among the rest was our yesterday's ac- 
quaintance, the chief of the village. He had alighted by 
the side of a cow, into which he had shot five or six 
arrows, and his squaw, who had followed him on horse- 
back to the hunt, was giving him a draught of water from 
a canteen, purchased or plundered from some volunteer 
soldier. Recrossing the river, we overtook the party 
who were already on their way. 

We had gone scarcely a mile when we saw an imposing 
spectacle. From the river bank on the right, away over 
the swelling prairie on the left, and in front as far as the 
eye could reach, was one vast host of buffalo. The out- 
skirts of the herd were within a quarter of a mile. In 
many parts -they were crowded so densely together that 
in the distance their rounded backs presented a surface 
of uniform blackness ; but elsewhere they were more 
scattered, and from amid the multitude rose little columns 
of dust where some of them were rolling on the ground. 
Here and there a battle was going forward among the 
bulls. We could distinctly see them rushing against each 
other, and hear the clattering of their horns and their 



332 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

hoarse bellowing. Shaw was riding at some distance 11 
advance, with Henry Chatillon : I saw him stop and 
draw the leather covering from his gun. With such a 
sight before us, but one thing could be thought of. That 
morning I had used pistols in the chase. I had now a 
mind to try the virtue of a gun. Deslauriers had one, 
and I rode up to the side of the cart ; there he sat under 
the white covering, biting his pipe between his teeth and 
grinning with excitement. 

" Lend me your gun, Deslauriers." 

" Oui, Monsieur, oui," said Deslauriers, tugging with 
might and main to stop the mule, which seemed obsti 
nately bent on going forward. Then every thing but his 
moccasins disappeared as he crawled into the cart and 
pulled at the gun to extricate it. 

« Is it loaded ? " I asked. 

" Oui, bien charg^ ; you'll kill, mon bourgeois ; yes, 
rou'll kill — c'est un bon fusil." 

I handed him my rifle and rode forward to Shaw. 

" Are you ready ? " he asked. 

" Come on," said I. 

"Keep down that hollow," said Henry, "and then 
ttiey won't see you till you get close to them." 

The hollow was a kind of wide ravine ; it ran obliquely 
towards the buffalo, and we rode at a canter along the 
bottom until it became too shallow ; then we bent close 
to our horses' necks, and, at last, finding that it could 
no longer conceal us, came out of it and rode directly 
towards the herd. It was within gunshot ; before its out- 
skirts, numerous grizzly old bulls were scattered, holding 
guard over their females. They glared at us in anger 
and astonishment, walked towards us a few yards, and 
then turning slowly round retreated at a trot which after- 
wards broke into a clumsy gallop. In an instant the 



THE CHASE. 333 

main body caught the alarm. The buffalo began to crowd 
away from the point towards which we were approaching, 
and a gap was opened in the side of the herd. Wo 
entered it, still restraining our excited horses. Every 
instant the tumult was thickening. The buffalo, pressing 
together in large bodies, crowded away from us on every 
hand. In front and on either side we could see dark 
columns and masses, half hidden by clouds of dust, rush- 
ing along in terror and confusion, and hear the tramp 
and clattering of ten thousand hoofs. That countless 
multitude of powerful brutes, ignorant of their own 
strength, were flying in a panic from the approach of two 
feeble horsemen. To remain jquiet longer was impossible. 

'^ Take that band on the left," said Shaw ; " I'll take 
these in front." 

He sprang off, and I saw no more of him. A heavy 
Indian whip was fastened by a band to my wrist ; I swung 
it into the air and lashed my horse's flank with all the 
strength of my arm. Away she darted, stretching close 
to the ground. I could see nothing but a cloud of dust 
before me, but I knew that it concealed a band of many 
hundreds of buffalo. In a moment I was in the midst 
of the cloud, half suffocated by the dust and stunned by 
the trampling of the flying herd ; but I was drunk with 
the chase and cared for nothing but the buffalo. Very 
soon a long dark mass became visible, looming through 
the dust ; then I could distinguish each bulky carcass, 
the hoofs flying out beneath, the short tails held rigidly 
erect. In a moment I was so close that I could have 
touched them with my gun. Suddenly, to my amaze- 
ment, the hoofs were jerked upwards, the tails flourished 
in the air, and amid a cloud of dust the buffalo seemed 
to sink into the earth before me. One vivid impression 
of that instant remains upon my mind. I remember 



334 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

looking down upon the backs of several buffalo dimlj? 
visible through the dust. We had run unawares upon 
a ravine. At that moment I was not the most accurate 
judge of depth and width, but when I passed it on my 
return, I found it about twelve feet deep and not quite 
twice as wide at the bottom. It was impossible to stop ; 
I would have done so gladly if I could ; so, half sliding, 
half plunging, down went the little mare. She came 
down on her knees in the loose sand at the bottom ; I 
was pitched forward against her neck and nearly thrown 
over her head among the butfalo, who amid dust and con- 
fusion came tumbling in all around. The mare was on 
her feet in an instant and .scrambling like a cat up the 
opposite side. I thought for a moment that she would 
have fallen back and crushed me, but with a violent effort 
she clambered out and gained the hard prairie above. 
Glancing back I saw the huge head of a bull clinging as 
it were by the forefeet at the edge of the dusty gulf. At 
length I was fairly among the buffalo. They were less 
densely crowded than before, and I could see nothing but 
bulls, who always run at the rear of a herd to protect 
their females. As I passed among them they would 
lower their heads, and turning as they ran, try to gore 
my horse ; but as they were already at full speed there 
was no force in their onset, and as Pauline ran faster 
than they, they were always thrown behind her in the 
effort. I soon began to distinguish cows amid the throng. 
One just in front of me seemed to my liking, and I pushed 
close to her side. Dropping the reins I fired, holding 
the muzzle of the gun within a foot of her shoulder. 
Quick as lightning she sprang at Pauline ; the little mare 
dodged the attack, and I lost sight of the wounded animal 
amid the tumult. Immediately after, I selected another, 
and urging forward Pauline, shot into her both pistol? 



THE CHASE. 335 

in succession. For a while I kept her in view, but in 
attempting to load my gun, lost sight of her also in the 
confusion. Believing her to be mortally wounded and 
unable to keep up with the herd, I checked my hcrse. 
The crowd rushed onwards. The dust and tumult passed 
away, and on the prairie, far behind the rest, I saw a 
solitary buffalo galloping heavily. In a moment I and 
my victim were running side by side. My firearms were 
all empty, and I had in my pouch nothing but rifle 
bullets, too large for the pistols and too small for the 
gun. I loaded the gun, however, but as often as I 
levelled it to fire, the bullets would roll out of the muzzle 
and the gun returned only a report like a squib, as the 
powder harmlessly exploded. I rode in front of the 
buffalo and tried to turn her back ; but her eyes glared, 
her mane bristled, and, lowering her head, she rushed at 
me with the utmost fierceness and activity. Again and 
again I rode before her, and again and again she repeated 
her furious charge. But little Pauline was in her 
element. She dodged her enemy at every rush, until at 
length the buffalo stood still, exhausted with her own 
eiforts, her tongue lolling from her jaws. 

Riding to a little distance, I dismounted, thinking to 
gather a handful of dry grass to serve the purpose of 
wadding, and load the gun at my leisure. No sooner 
were my feet on the ground than the buffalo came bound- 
ing in such a rage towards me that I jumped back again 
into the saddle with all possible despatch. After waiting 
a few minutes more, I made an attempt to ride up and 
stab her with my knife ; but Pauline was near being gored 
in the attempt. At length, bethinking me of the fringes at 
the seams of my buckskin trousers, I jerked off a few of 
them, and, reloading the gun, forced them down the barrel 
to keep the bullet in its place ; then approaching, I shot the 



336 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

w oimded buffalo through the heart. Sinking to her knees, 
she rolled over lifeless on the prairie. To my astonish- 
ment, I found that, instead of a cow, I had been slaughter- 
ing a stout yearling bull. No longer wondering at his 
fierceness, I opened his throat, and cutting out his tongue, 
tied it at the back of my saddle. My mistake was one 
which a more experienced eye than mine might easily 
make in the dust and confusion of such a chase. 

Then for the first time I had leisure to look at the 
scene around me. The prairie in front was darkened 
with the retreating multitude, and on either hand the 
buffalo came filing up in endless columns from the low 
plains upon the river. The Arkansas was three or four 
miles distant. I turned and moved slowly towards it. 
A long time passed before, far in the distance, I distin- 
guished the white covering of the cart and the little black 
specks of horsemen before and behind it. Drawing near, 
I recognized Shaw's elegant tunic, the red flannel shirt, 
conspicuous far off. I overtook the party, and asked him 
what success he had had. He had assailed a fat cow, 
shot her with two bullets, and mortally wounded her. 
But neither of us was prepared for the chase that after- 
noon, and Shaw, like myself, had no spare bullets in his 
pouch ; so he abandoned the disabled animal to Henry 
Chatillon, who followed, despatched her with his rifle, and 
loaded his hoise with the meat. 

We encamped close to the river. The night was dark, 
and as we lay down we could hear, mingled with the 
bowlings of wolves, the hoarse bellowing of the buffalo, 
like the ocean beating upon a distant coast. 



CHAPTER XXV. 

THE BUFFALO CAMP. 

"VJO one in the camp was more active than Jim Gur« 
■^ ^ ney, and no one half so lazy as Ellis. Between 
these two there was a great antipathy. Ellis never stirred 
in the morning until he was compelled, but Jim was al- 
ways on his feet before daybreak; and this morning as 
usual the sound of his voice awakened the party. 

" Get up, you booby I up with you now, you're fit for 
nothing but eating and sleeping. Stop your grumbling 
and come out of that I uffalo-robe, or I'll j)ull it off for 
you." 

Jim's words were interspersed with numerous expletives, 
which gave them great additional effect. Ellis drawled 
out something in a nasal tone from among the folds of 
his buffalo-robe ; then slowly disengaged himself, rose into 
a sitting posture, stretched his long arms, yawned hid- 
eously, and, finally raising his tall person erect, stood 
staring about him to all the four quarters of the horizon. 
Deslauriers's fire was soon blazing, and the horses and 
mules, loosened from their pickets, were feeding on the 
neighboring meadow. When we sat down to breakfast 
the prairie was still in the dusky light of morning ; and as 
the sun rose we were mounted and on our way again. 

" A white buffalo ! " exclaimed Munroe. 

" I'll have that fellow," said Shaw, "if I run my horse 
to death after him." 

22 



38 . THE OREGON TRAIL. 

He threw the cover of his gun to Deslauriers and gal 
loped out upon the prairie. 

" Stop, Mr. Shaw, stop ! " called out Henry Chatillon, 
*' you'll run down your horse for nothing; it's only a 
white ox." 

But Shaw was already out of hearing. The ox, which 
had no doubt strayed away from some of the government 
wagon trains, was standing beneath some low hills which 
bounded the plain in the distance. Not far from him a 
band of veritable buffalo bulls were grazing ; and startled 
at Shaw's approach, they all broke into a run, and wont 
scrambling up the hill-sides to gain the high prairie above. 
One of them in his haste and terror involved himself in 
a fatal catastrophe. Along the foot of the hills was a 
narrow strip of deep marshy soil, into which the bull 
plunged and hopelessly entangled himself. We all rode 
to the spot. The huge carcass was half sunk in the mud, 
which flowed to his very chin, and his shaggy mane was 
outspread upon the surface. As we came near, the bull 
began to struggle with convulsive strength ; he writhed 
to and fro, and in the energy of his fright and desperation 
would lift himself for a moment half out of the slough, 
while the reluctant mire returned a sucking sound as he 
strained to drag his limbs from its tenacious depths. We 
stimulated his exertions by getting behind him and twist- 
uig his tail ; nothing would do. There was clearly no 
hope for him. After every effort his heaving sides \vere 
more deeply imbedded, and the mire almost overflowed his 
nostrils ; he lay still at length, and looking round at us 
with a furious eye, seemed to resign himself to his fate. 
Ellis slowly dismounted, and, levelling his boasted yager, 
shot the old bull through the heart ; then lazily climbed 
bacK again to his seat, pluming himself no doubt on 
having actually killed a buffalo. That day the invincible 



THE BUFFALO CAMP. 339 

yager drew blood for the first and last time during the 
whole journey. 

The morning was a bright and gay one, and the air so 
clear that on the farthest horizon the outline of the pale 
blue prairie was sharply drawn against the sky. Shaw 
was in the mood for hunting ; he rode in advance of the 
party, and before long we saw a file of bulls galloping at 
full speed upon a green swell of the prairie at some dis- 
tance in front. Shaw came scouring along behind them, 
arrayed in his red shirt, which looked very well in the 
distance ; he gained fast on the fugitives, and as the fore- 
most bull was disappearing behind the summit of the 
swell, we saw him in the act of assailing the hindmost ; a 
smoke sprang from the muzzle of his gun and floated 
away before the wind like a little white cloud;* the bull 
turned upon him, and just then the rising ground con- 
cealed them both from view. 

We were moving forward until about noon, when we 
stopped by the side of the Arkansas. At that moment 
Shaw appeared riding slowly down the side of a distant 
hill; his horse was tired and jaded, and when he threw 
his saddle upon the ground, I observed that the tails of 
two bulls were dangling behind it. No sooner were the 
horses turned loose to feed than Henry, asking Munroe 
to go with him, took his rifle and walked quietly away. 
Shaw, Tete Rouge, and I sat down by the side of the cart 
to discuss the dinner which Deslauriers placed before us, 
and we had scarcely finished when we saw Munroe walk- 
ing towards us along the river bank. Henry, he said, had 
killed four fat cows, and had sent him back for horses to 
bring in the meat. Shaw took a horse for himself and 
another for Henry, and he and Munroe left the camp to- 
gether. After a short absence all three of them came 
back, their horses loaded with the choicest parts of the 



H40 THE OREGON TRAIL, 

meat. We kept two of the cows for ourselves, and gave the 
others to Muiiroe and his companions. Deslauriers seated 
himself on the grass before the pile of meat, and worked 
industriously for some time to cut it into thin broad sheets 
for drying, an art in which he had all the skill of an In 
dian squaw. Long before night, cords of raw hide were 
stretched around the camp, and the meat was hung upon 
them to dry in the sunshine and pure air of the prairie 
Our California companions were less successful at the 
work ; but they accomplished it after their own fashion, 
and their side of the camp was soon garnished in the same 
manner as our own. 

We meant to remain at this place long enough to pre- 
pare provisions for our journey to the frontier, which, as we 
supposed, might occupy about a month. Had the distance 
been twice as great and the party ten times as large, the 
rifle of Henry Chatillon would have supplied meat enough 
for the whole within two days ; we were obliged to remain, 
however, until it should be dry enough for transportation ; 
so we pitched our tent and made other arrangements for 
a permanent camp. The California men, who had no 
such shelter, contented themselves with arranging their 
packs on the grass around their fire. In the mean time 
we had nothing to do but amuse ourselves. Our tent was 
within a rod of the river, if the broad sand-beds, with a 
scanty stream of water coursing here and there along 
their surface, deserve to be dignified with the name of 
river. The vast flat plains on either side were almost on 
a level with the sand-beds, and they were bounded in the 
distance by low, monotonous hills, parallel to the course 
of the stream. All was one expanse of grass ; there was 
no wood in view, except some trees and stunted bushes 
upon two islands which rose from the wet sands of the 
river. Yet far from being dull and tame, the scene was 



THE BUFFALO CAMP. 341 

often a wild and animated one ; for twice a day, at sun- 
rise and at noon, the buffalo came issuing from the hills, 
slowly advancing in their grave processions to drink at 
the river. All our amusements were to be at their ex- 
pense. An old buffalo bull is a brute of unparalleled ugli 
ness. At first sight of him every feeling of pity vanishes. 
The cows are much smaller and of a gentler appearance, 
as becomes their sex. While in this camp we forbore to 
attack them, leaving to Henry Chatillon, who could better 
judge their quality, the task of killing such as we wanted 
for use ; but against the bulls we waged an unrelenting 
war. Thousands of them might be slaughtered without 
causing any detriment to the species, for their numbers 
greatly exceed those of the cows ; it is the hides of the lat- 
ter alone which are used for the purposes of commerce and 
for making the lodges of the Indians ; and the destruction 
among them is therefore greatly disproportionate. 

Our horses were tired, and we now usually hunted on 
foot. While we were lying on the grass after dinner, 
smoking, talking, or laughing at Tete Rouge, one of us 
would look up and observe, far out on the plains beyond 
the river, certain black objects slowly approaching. He 
would inhale a parting whiff from the pipe, then rising 
lazily, take his rifle, which leaned against the cart, throw 
over his shoulder the strap of his pouch and powder-horn, 
and with his moccasins in his hand, walk across the sand 
towards the opposite side of the river. This was very 
easy ; for though the sands were about a quarter of. a mile 
wide, the water was nowhere more than two feet deep. The 
farther bank was about four or five feet high, and quite 
perpendicular, being cut away by the water in spring. 
Tall grass grew along its edge. Putting it aside with his 
hand, and cautiously looking through it, the hunter can 
discern the huge shaggy back of the bull slowly swaying 



342 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

to and fro, as, with his clumsy swinging gait, he advances 
towards the water. The buffalo have regular paths by 
which they come down to drink. Seeing at a glance 
along which of these his intended victim is moving, the 
hunter crouches under the bank within fifteen or twentj 
yards, it may be, of the point where the path enters the 
river. Here he sits down quietly on the sand. Listening 
intently, he hears the heavy monotonous tread of the ai> 
preaching bull. The moment after, he sees a motion 
among the long weeds and grass just at the spot where 
the path is channelled through the bank. An enormous 
black head is thrust out, the horns just visible amid the 
mass of tangled mane. Half sliding, half plunging, 
down comes the buffalo upon the river-bed below. He 
steps out in full sight upon the sands. Just before him a 
runnel of water is gliding, and he bends his head to drink. 
You may hear the water as it gurgles down his capacious 
throat. He raises his head, and the drops trickle from 
his wet beard. He stands with an air of stupid abstrac- 
tion, unconscious of the lurking danger. Noiselessly the 
hunter cocks his rifle. As he sits upon the sand, his 
knee is raised, and his elbow rests upon it, that he may 
level his heavy weapon with a steadier aim. The stock 
is at his shoulder ; his eye ranges along the barrel. Still 
he is in no haste to fire. The bull, with slow deliberar 
tion, begins his march over the sands to the other side. 
He advances his foreleg, and exposes to view a small 
spot, denuded of hair, just behind the point of his shoul- 
der ; upon this the hunter brings the sight of his rifle to 
bear ; lightly and delicately his finger presses the hair- 
trigger. The spiteful crack of the rifle responds to his 
touch, and instantly in the middle of the bare spot ap- 
pears a small red dot. The buffalo shivers; death has 
overtaken him, he caniiot tell from whence ; still he does 



THE BUFFALO CAMP. 34S 

U3t fall, but walks heavily forward, as if nothing had 
happened. Yet before he has gone far out upon the sand 
you see him stop ; he totters ; his knees bend under him, 
and his head sinks forward to the ground. Then his 
whole vast bulk sways to one side ; he rolls over on the 
sand, and dies with a scarcely perceptible struggle. 

Waylaying the buffalo in this manner, and shooting 
them as they come to water, is the easiest method of 
hunting them. They may also be approached by crawling 
up ravines, or behind hills, or even over the open prairie. 
This is often surprisingly easy ; but at other times it re- 
quires the utmost skill of the most experienced hunter. 
Henry Chatillon was a man of extraordinary strength 
and hardihood ; but I have seen him return to camp 
quite exhausted with his efforts, his limbs scratched and 
wounded, and his buckskin dress stuck full of the tliorns 
of the prickly-pear, among which he had been crawling. 
Sometimes he would lie flat upon his face, and drag him- 
self along in this position for many rods together. 

On the second day of our stay at this place, Henry 
went out for an afternoon hunt. Shaw and I remained 
in camp, until, observing some bulls approaching the 
water upon the other side of the river, we crossed over to 
attack them. They were so near, however, that before 
we could get under cover of the bank our appearance as 
we walked over the sands alarmed them. Turning round 
before coming within gun-shot, they began to move off to 
the right in a direction parallel to the river. I climbed 
up the bank and ran after them. They were walking 
swiftly, and before I could come within gun-shot distance 
they slowly wheeled about and faced me. Before they 
had turned far enough to see me I had fallen flat on my 
face. For a moment they stood and stared at the strange 
object upon the grass; then turning away, again they 



344: THE OREGON TRAIL. 

walked on as before ; and I, rising immediately, ran once 
more in pursuit. Again they wheeled about, and again I 
fell prostrate. Repeating this three or four times, I came 
at leng-th within a hundred yards of the fugitives, and as 
I saw them turning again I sat down and levelled my 
rifle. The one in the centre was the largest I had ever 
seen. I shot him behind the shoulder. His two com- 
panions ran off. He attempted to follow, but soon came 
to a stand, and at length lay down as quietly as an ox 
chewing the cud. Cautiously approaching him, I saw by 
his dull and jelly-like eye that he was dead. 

When I began the chase, the prairie was almost ten 
antless ; but a great multitude of buffalo had suddenly 
thronged upon it, and looking up I saw within fifty rods 
a heavy, dark column stretching to the right and left as 
far as I could see. I walked towards them. My approach 
did not alarm them in the least. The column itself con- 
sisted almost entirely of cows and calves, but a great 
many old bulls were ranging about the prairie on its flank, 
and as I drew near they faced towards me with such a 
grim and ferocious look that I thought it best to proceed 
no farther. Indeed I was already within close rifle-shot 
of the column, and I sat down on the ground to watch 
their movements. Sometimes the whole would stand 
still, their heads all one way ; then they would ti ot for- 
ward, as if by a common impulse, their hoofs and horns 
clattering together as they moved. I soon began to hear 
at a distance on the left the sharp reports of a rifle, again 
and again repeated ; and not long after, dull and heavy 
sounds succeeded, which I recognized as the familiar voice 
of Shaw's double-barrelled gun. When Henry's rifle was 
at work there was always meat to be brought in. I went 
back across the river for a horse, and, returning, reached 
the spot where the hunters were standing. The buffalo were 



THE BUFFALO CAMP. 345 

v^isible on the distant prairie. The living had retreated 
from the ground, but ten or twelve carcasses were scat- 
tered in various directions. Henry, knife in hand, was 
stooping over a dead cow, cutting away the best and fat^ 
test of the meat. 

When Shaw left me he had walked down for some dis- 
fcance under the river-bank to find another bull. At 
length he saw the plains covered with the host of buffalo, 
and soon after heard the crack of Henry's rifle. Ascend- 
ing the bank, he crawled through the grass, which for a 
rod or two from the river was very high and rank. He 
had not crawled far before to his astonishment he saw 
Henry standing erect upon the prairie, almost surrounded 
by the buffalo. Henry was in his element. Quite uncon- 
scious that any one was looking at him, he stood at the 
full height of his tall figure, one hand resting upon hia 
side, and the other arm leaning carelessly on the muzzle 
of his rifle. His eye was ranging over the singulai 
assemblage around him. Now and then he would select 
such a cow as suited him, level his rifle, and shoot her 
dead ; then quietly reloading, he would resume his for- 
mer position. The buffalo seemed no more to regard his 
presence than if he were one of themselves ; the bulls 
were bellowing and butting at each other, or rolling about 
in the dust. A group of buffalo would gather about the 
carcass of a dead cow, snuffing at her wounds ; and some- 
times they would come behind those that had not yet 
fallen, and endeavor to push them from the spot. Now 
and then some old bull would face towards Henry with an 
air of stupid amazement, but none seemed inclined to 
attack or fly from him. For some time Shaw lay among 
the grass, looking in surprise at this extraordinary sight ; 
at length he crawled cautiously forward, and spoke in a 
low voice to Henry, who told him to rise and come on 



346 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

Still the buffalo showed no sign of fear ; they remained 
gathered about their dead companions. Henry had already 
killed as many cows as we wanted for use, and Shaw, 
kneeling behind one of the carcasses, shot five bulls 
before tlie rest thought it necessary to disperse. 

The frequent stupidity and infatuation of the buffalo 
seems the more remarkable from the contrast it offers to 
their wildness and wariness at other times. Henry knew 
all their peculiarities ; he had studied them as a scholar 
studies his books, and derived quite as much pleasure 
from the occupation. The buffalo were a kind of com- 
panions to him, and, as he said, he never felt alone when 
they were about him. He took great pride in his skill in 
hunting. He was one of the most modest of men ; yet 
in the simplicity and frankness of his character, it was 
clear that he looked upon his pre-eminence in this re- 
sj:)ect as a thing too palpable and well-established to be 
disputed. But whatever may have been his estimate of 
his own skill, it was rather below than above that which 
others placed upon it. The only time that I ever saw a 
shade of scorn darken his face, was when two volunteer 
soldiers, who had just killed a buffalo for the first time, 
undertook to instruct him as to the best method of " ap- 
proaching." Henry always seemed to think that he had 
a sort of prescriptive right to the buffalo, and to look 
upon them as something belonging to himself. Nothing 
excited his indignation so much as any wanton destruc- 
tion committed among the cows, and in his view shooting 
a calf was a cardinal sin. 

Henry Chatillon and Tete Rouge were of the same 
age ; that is, about thirty. Henry was twice as large, 
and about six times as strong as Tete Rouge. Henry's 
face was roughened by winds and storms ; Tete Rouge's 
was bloated by sherry-cobblers and brandy-toddy. Henry 



THE BUFFALO CAMP. 34*1 

talked of Indians and buffalo ; Tete Rouge of theatres 
and oyster-cellars. Henry had led a life of hardship and 
privation ; Tete Rouge never had a whim which ]ie would 
not gratify at the first moment he was able. Henry 
moreover was the most disinterested man I ever saw ; 
while Tete Rouge, though equally good-natured in his 
way, cared for nobody but himself. Yet we would not 
have lost him on any account ; he served the purpose of 
a jester in a feudal castle ; our camp would have beei 
lifeloss w^ithout him. For the past week he had fattened 
in a most amazing manner ; and, indeed, this was not at 
all surprising, since his appetite was inordinate. He was 
eating from morning till night ; half the time he would 
be at work cooking some private repast for himself, and 
he paid a visit to the coffee-pot eight or ten times a day, 
His rueful and disconsolate face became jovial and rubi- 
cund, his eyes stood out like a lobster's, and his spirits, 
which before w^ere sunk to the depths of despondency, 
were now elated in proportion ; all day he was singing, 
whistling, laughing, and teUing stories. Being mortally 
afraid of Jim Gurney, he kept close in the neighborhood 
of our tent. As he had seen an abundance of low fast 
life, and had a considerable fund of lir.inoi, h\. 'Anecdotes 
were extiemely amusing, especially since he never hesi- 
tated to place himself in a ludicrous point of view, pro- 
vided he could raise a laugh by doing so. Tete Rouge, 
however, was sometimes rather troublesome ; he had an 
inveterate habit of pilfering provisions at all times of the 
day. He set ridicule at defiance; and would never have 
given Gvtv his trici: 5, even if they had drawn upon him 
the scorn of tho whole party. Now and then, indeed, 
something worse than laughter fell to his share ; on these 
occasions he \ ild exhibii much contrition, but lialf an 
houi after we w id generally observe him stealing round 



348 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

to the box at the back of the cart, and slylj making off 
with the provisions which Deslauriers had laid by foi 
supper. He was fond of smoking ; but having no tobacco 
of his own, we used to provide him with as much as he 
wanted, a small piece at a time. At first we gave him 
half a pound together ; but this experiment proved an 
sntii'e failure, for he invariably lost not only the tobacco, 
out the knife intrusted to him for cutting it, and a few 
minutes after he would come to us with many apologies 
and beg for more. 

We had been two days at this camp, and some of the 
meat was nearly fit for transportation, when a storm came 
suddenly upon us. About sunset the whole sky grew as 
black as ink, and the long grass at the edge of the river 
bent and rose mournfully with the first gusts of the ap- 
proaching hurricane. Munroe and his two companions 
brought their guns and placed them under cover of our 
tent. Having no shelter for themselves, they built a fire of 
driftwood that might have defied a cataract, and, wrapped 
in their buffalo-robes, sat on the ground around it to 
bide the fury of the storm. Deslauriers ensconced him- 
self under the cover of the cart. Shaw and I, together 
with Henry and Tete Rouge, crowded into the little tent ; 
but first of all the dried meat was piled together, and 
well protected by buffalo-robes pinned firmly to the ground. 
About nine o'clock the storm broke amid absolute dark- 
ness ; it blew a gale, and torrents of rain roared over 
the boundless expanse of open prairie. Our tent was 
filled with mist and spray beating through the canvas, 
and saturating every thing within. We could only dis- 
tinguish each other at short intervals by the dazzling 
flashes of lightning, which displayed the whole waste 
' around us with its momentary glare. We had our fears 
for the tent ; but for an hour or two it stood fast, until 



THE BUFFALO CAMP. 349 

at length the cap gave way before a furious blast; the 
pole tore through the top, and in an instant we were 
half suffocated by the cold and dripping folds of the 
canvas, which fell down upon us. Seizing upon our 
guns, we placed them erect, in order to lift the saturated 
cloth above our heads. In this agreeable situation, in- 
volved among wet blankets and buffalo-robes, we spent 
several hours of the night, during which the storm would 
not abate for a moment, but pelted down with merci- 
less fury. Before long the water gathered beneath u? 
in a pool two or three inches deep; so that for a con- 
siderable part of the night we were partially immersed 
in a cold bath. In spite of all this, Tete Rouge's flow 
of spirits did not fail him ; he laughed, whistled, and 
sang in defiance of the storm, and that night paid oif 
the long arrears of ridicule which he owed us. While 
we lay in silence, enduring the infliction with what 
philosophy we could muster, Tete Rouge, who was in- 
toxicated with animal spirits, cracked jokes at our ex- 
pense by the hour together. At about three o'clock in 
the morning, preferring " the tyranny of the open night" 
to such a wretched shelter, we crawled out from beneath 
the fallen canvas. The wind had abated, but the rain 
fell steadily. The fire of the California men still blazed 
amid the darkness, and we joined them as they sat 
around it. We made ready some hot coffee by way of 
refreshment ; but when some of the party sought to 
replenish their cups, it was found that Tete Rouge, 
having disposed of his own share, had privately ab- 
stracted the coffee-pot and drunk the rest of the con- 
tents out of the spout. 

In the morning, to our great joy, an unclouded sun 
rose upon the prairie. We presented a rather laughable 
appearance, for the cold and clammy buckskin, saturated 



350 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

with water, clung fast to our limbs. The light wind and 
warm sunshine soon dried it again, and then we were all 
incased in armor of intolerable stiffness. Roaming all 
day over the prairie and shooting two or three bulls, 
were scarcely enough to restore the stiffened leather to 
its usual pliancy. 

Besides Henry Chatillon, Shaw and I were the only 
hunters in the party. Munroe this morning made an 
attempt to run a buffalo, but his horse could not come 
up to the game. Shaw went out with him, and being 
better mounted soon found himself in the midst of the 
herd. Seeing nothing but cows and calves around him, 
he checked his horse. An old bull came galloping on 
the open prairie at some distance behind, and turning, 
Shaw rode across his path, levelling his gun as he passed, 
and shooting him through the shoulder into the heart. 

A great flock of buzzards was u^ally soaring about a 
few trees that stood on the island just below our camp. 
Throughout the whole of yesterday we had noticed an 
eagle among them ; to-day he was still there ; and Tete 
Rouge, declaring that he would kill the bird of America, 
borrowed Deslauriers's gun and set out on his unpatri- 
otic mission. As might have been expected, the eagle 
suffered no harm at his hands. He soon returned, say- 
ing that he could not find him, but had shot a buzzard 
instead. Being required to produce the bird in proof of 
his assertion, he said he believed that he was not quite 
dead, but he must be hurt, from the swiftness with which 
he flow off. 

" If you want," said Tete Rouge, " I'll go and get one 
of his feathers ; I knocked off plenty of them when I 
shot him." 

Just opposite our camp, was another island covered 
with bushes, and behind it was a deep pool of water. 



THE BUFFALO CAMP. 351 

w^hile two or tbree considerable streams coursed over the 
Baud uot far otf. I was bathing at this place in the 
afternoon when a white wolf, larger than the largest 
Newfoundland dog, ran out from behind the point of the 
island, and galloped leisurely over the sand not half a 
stone's-throw distant. I could plainly see his red eyes 
and the bristles about his snout; he was an ugly scoun- 
drel, with a bushy tail, a large head, and a most repul- 
sive countenance. Having neither rifle to shoot nor 
stone to pelt liim with, I was looking after some missile 
for his benefit, when the report of a gun came from the 
camp, and the ball threw up the sand just beyond him ; 
at this he gave a slight jump, and stretched away so 
swiftly that he soon dwindled into a mere speck on the 
distant sand-beds. The number of carcasses that by this 
time were lying about the neighboring prairie summoned 
the wolves from every quarter ; the spol where Shaw and 
Henry had hunted together soon bee; me their favorite 
resort, for here about a dozen dead biillalo weie ferment- 
ing under the hot sun. I used often to go over the river 
and watch them at their meal. By lying under the bank 
it was easy to get a full view of them. Tliere were three 
different kinds: the white v/r)lvfs and the gray wolves, 
both very large, and besides these the small prairie 
wolves, not much bigger ihan spaniels. They would 
howl and fight in a ci'^Avd around a single carcass, yet 
they were so watchful, and their senses so acute, that 1 
never was able to crawl witliin a fair shooting distance; 
whenever I attempted it. they would all scatter at once 
and glide silently awiy throrgh the tall grass. The air 
above this spot was always full of turkey-buzzards or 
black vul'ures; \vhenever the wolves left a carcass ;;hey 
would abscond upon it, and cover it so densely '.-hat a 
rifle bullet shot at random among the gurmindizing 



352 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

crowd would generally strike down two or three of them. 
These birds would often sail by scores just above our 
camp, their broad black wings seeming half transparent 
as they expanded them against the bright sky. The 
wolves and the buzzards thickened about us every hour, 
and two or three eagles also came to the feast. I killed 
a bull within rifle-shot of the camp; that night the 
wolves made a fearful howling close at hand, and in the 
morning the carcass was completely hollowed out by 
these voracious feeders. 

After remaining four days at this camp we prepared to 
leave it. We had for our own part about five hundred 
pounds of dried meat, and the Caliibrnia men had pre- 
pared some three hundred more ; this consisted of the 
fattest and choicest parts of eight or nine cows, a small 
quantity only being taken from each, and the rest aban- 
doned to the wolves. The pack animals were laden, tlie 
horses saddled, and the mules harnessed to the cart. 
Even Tete Rouge was ready at last, and slowly moving 
from the ground, we resumed our journey eastward. 
When we had advanced about a mile, Shaw missed a 
valuable hunting-knife, and turned back in search of it, 
thinking that he had left it at the camp. The day was 
dark and gloomy. The ashes of the fires were still 
smoking by the river side ; the grass around them was 
trampled down by men and horses, and strewn with all 
the litter of a camp. Our departure had been a gather- 
ing signal to the birds and beasts of prey. Scores of 
wolves were prowling about the smouldering fires, while 
multitudes were roaming over the neighboring prairie ; 
they all fled* as Shaw approached, some running over the 
sand-beds and some over the grassy plains. The vultures 
in great clouds were soaring overhead, and the dead bull 
near the camp was completely blackened by the flock 



THE BUFFALO CAMP. 35^ 

that had alighted upon it ; they flapped their broad wings, 
and stretched upwards their crested heads and long 
skinny necks, fearing to remain, yet reluctant to leave 
their disgusting feast. As he searched about the fires 
he saw the wolves seated on the hills waiting for his de- 
parture. Having looked in vain for his knife, he mounted 
again, and left the wolves and the vultures to banquet 
UK disturbed. 



OHAPTER XX Vi. 

DOWN THE ARKANSAS. 

IN the summer of 1846, the wild and lonely banks o! 
the Upper Arkansas beheld for the first time the 
passage of an army. General Kearney, on his march to 
Santa Fd, adopted this route in preference to the old trail 
of the Cimarron. When we were on the Arkansas, the 
main body of the troops had already passed on ; Price's 
Missouri regiment, however, was still on its way, having 
left the frontier much later than the rest; and about 
this time we began to meet one or two companies at a 
time moving along the trail. No men ever embarked 
upon a military expedition with a greater love for the 
work before them than the Missourians ; but if discipline 
and subordination are the criterion of merit, they were 
worthless soldiers indeed. Yet when their exploits have 
rung through all America, it would be absurd to deny 
that they were excellent irregular troops. Their victories 
were gained in the teeth of every established precedent 
of warfare ; and were owing to a combination of military 
qualities in the men themselves. Doniphan's regiment 
marched through New Mexico more like a band of free 
companions than like the paid soldiers of a modern 
government. When General Taylor complimented him 
on his success at Sacramento and elsewhere, the Colonel'? 
reply very well illustrates the relations which subsisted 
between the officers and men of his command. 



DOWN THE ARKANSAS. 355 

** 1 don't know any thing of the manoeuvres. The 
boys kept coming to me, to let them charge ; and when 
I saw a good opportunity, I told them they might go. 
They were off like a shot, and that's all I know about 
it." 

The backwoods lawyer was better fitted to conciliate 
the good-will than to command the obedience of his men. 
There were many serving under him, who both from 
character and education could better have held command 
than he. 

At the battle of Sacramento his frontiersmen fought 
under every disadvantage. The Mexicans had chosen 
their position ; they were drawn up across the valley 
that led to their native city of Chihuahua ; their whole 
front was covered by intrenchments and defended by 
batteries, and they outnumbered the invaders five to one. 
An eagle flew over the Americans, and a deep murmur 
rose along their lines. The enemy's batteries opened ; 
long they remained under fire, but when at length the 
word was given, they shouted and ran forward. In one 
of the divisions, when mid-way to the enemy a drunken 
officer ordered a halt; the exasperated men hesitated 
to obey. 

" Forward, boys ! " cried a private from the ranks ; and 
the Americans rushed like tigers upon the enemy. Four 
hundred Mexicans were slain upon the spot, and the rest 
fled, scattering over the plain like sheep. The standards, 
cannon, and baggage were taken, and among the rest a 
wagon laden with cords, which the Mexicans, in the ful- 
ness of their confidence, had made ready for tying the 
American prisoners. 

Doniphan's volunteers, who gained this victory, passed 
up with the main army ; but Price's soldiers, whom we 
now met were men from the same neighborhood, precisely 



356 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

similar in cliaracter, manners, and appearance. One 
morning, as we were descending upon a wide meadow, 
where we meant to rest for an hour or two, we saw a 
body of horsemen approaching at a distance. In order 
to find water, we were obliged to turn aside to the river 
bank, a full half mile from the trail. Here we put up a 
kind of awning, and spreading buffalo-robes on tho ground 
Shaw and I sat down to smoke. 

" We are going to catch it now," said Shaw ; '' look at 
those fellows ; there'll be no peace for us here." 

And in truth about half the volunteers had straggled 
away from the line of march, and were riding over the 
meadow towards us. 

" How are you ? " said the first who came up, alighting 
from his horse and throwing himself upon the ground. 
The rest followed close, and a score of tnem soon gathered 
about us, some lying at full length and some sitting on 
horseback. They all belonged to a company raised in 
St. Louis. There were some ruffian faces among them, 
and some haggard with debauchery ; but on the whole 
they were extremely good-looking men, superior beyond 
measure to the ordinary rank and file of an army. Ex- 
cept that they were booted to the knees, they wore their 
belts and military trappings over the ordinary dress of 
citizens. Besides their swords and holster pistols, they 
carried slung from their saddles the excellent Springfield 
carbines, loaded at the breech. They inquired the char- 
acter of our party, and were anxious to know the prospect 
of killing buffalo, and the chance that their horses would 
stand the journey to Santa Fe. All this was well enough, 
but a moment after a worse visitation came upon us. 

" How are you, strangers ? whar are you going and 
whar are you from ? " said a fellow, who came trotting 
up with an old straw hat on his head. He was dressed 



DOWN THE ARKANSAS. 35T 

in the coarsest brown homespun cloth. His face was 
rather sallow from fever-and-ague, and his tall figure, 
though strong and sinewy, had a lean angular look, which, 
together with his boorish seat on horseback, gave him an 
appearance any thing but graceful. More of the same 
stamp were close behind him. Their company was raised 
m one of the frontier counties, and we soon had abundant 
evidence of their rustic breeding ; they came crowding 
round by scores, pushing between our first visitors, aid 
staring at us with unabashed faces. 

" Are you the captain ? " asked one fellow. 

'' What's your business out here ? " asked another. 

" Whar do you live when you're to home ? " said a third. 

" I reckon you're traders," surmised a fourth ; and to 
crown the whole, one of them came confidentially to my 
side and inquired in a low voice, " What's your partner's 
name ? " 

As each new comer repeated the same questions, the 
nuisance became intolerable. Our military visitors were 
soon disgusted at the concise nature of our replies, and 
we could overhear them muttering curses. While we sat 
smoking, not in the best imaginable humor, Tete Rouge's 
tongue was not idle. He never forgot his military char- 
acter, and during the whole interview he was incessantly 
busy among his fellow-soldiers. At length we placed 
him on the ground before us, and told him that he might 
play the part of spokesman. Tete Eouge was dehghted, 
and we soon had the satisfaction of seeing him gabble at 
such a rate that the torrent of questions was in a great 
measure diverted from us. A little while after, a cannou 
with four horses came lumbering up behind the crowd ; 
and the driver, who was perched on one of the animals, 
stretching his neck so as to look. over the rest of the men 
called out, — 



858 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

" Whar are you from, and what's your business ? " 

The captain of one of the companies was among oui 
visitors, drawn by the same curiosity that had attracted 
his men. Unless their faces belied them, not a few in the 
crowd might with great advantage have changed places 
with their commander. 

" Well, men," said he, lazily rising from the ground 
where he had been lounging, " it's getting late, I reckon 
we'd better be moving." 

'' I shan't start yet anyhow," said one fellow, who was 
lying half asleep with his head resting on his arm. 

" Don't be in a hurry. Captain," added the lieutenant. 

^' Well, have it your own way, we'll wait a while longer,'* 
replied the obsequious commander. 

At length, however, our visitors went straggling away 
as they had come, and we, to our great relief, were left 
alone again. 

No one was more relieved than Deslauriers by the de- 
parture of the volunteers ; for dinner was getting colder 
every moment. He spread a well-whitened buffalo-hide 
upon the grass, placed in the middle the juicy hump of a 
fat cow, ranged around it the tin plates and cups, and 
then announced that all was ready. Tete Rouge, with 
his usual alacrity on such occasions, was the first to take 
his seat. In his former capacity of steamboat clerk, he 
had learned to prefix the honorary Mister to everybody's 
name, whether of high or low degree ; so Jim Gurney was 
Mr. Gurney, Henry was Mr. Henry, and even Deslauriers, 
for the first time in his life, heard himself addressed as 
Mr. Deslauriers. This did not prevent his conceiving a 
violent enmity against Tete Rouge, who, in his futile 
though praiseworthy attempts to make himself useful, 
used always to intermeddle with cooking the dinners. 
Deslauriers's disposition knew no medium between smiles 



DOWN THE ARKANSAS. «359 

and sunshine and a downright tornado of wrath ; he said 
nothing to Tete Kouge, but his wrongs rankled in his 
breast. Tete Rouge had taken his place at dinner; it 
was his happiest moment; he sat enveloped in the old 
buffalo-coat, sleeves turned up in preparation for the work, 
and his short legs crossed on the grass before him ; he 
had a cup of coffee by his side and his knife ready in his 
hand, and while he looked upon the fat hump ribs, his 
eyes dilated with anticipation. Deslauriers sat opposite to 
him, and the rest of us by this time had taken our seats. 

" How is this, Deslauriers V You haven't given us 
bread enough." 

At this Deslauriers' placid face flew into a paroxysm 
of contortions. He grinned with wrath, chattered, gestic- 
ulated, and hurled forth a volley of incoherent words in 
broken English at the astonished Tete Rouge. It was 
just possible to make out tliat he was accusing him of 
having stolen and eaten four large cakes which had been 
laid by for dinner. Tete Rouge, confounded at this sud- 
den attack, stared at his assailant for a moment in dumb 
amazement, with mouth and eyes wide open. At last he 
found speech, and protested that the accusation was false; 
aLd that he could not conceive how he had offended Mr. 
Deslauriers, or provoked him to use such ungentlemanly 
expressions. The tempest of words raged with such fury 
that nothing else could be heard. But Tete Rouge from 
his greater command of English had a manifest advan- 
tage over Deslauriers, who, after sputtering and grimacing 
for a while, found his words quite inadequate to the ex- 
pression of his wrath. He jumped up and vanished, 
jerking out between his teeth one furious s^cr^ enfant de 
gai'ce ! a Canadian title of honor, made doubly emphatic 
by being usually ajiplied together with a cut of the wliip 
to refractory mules and horses. 



:^;60 THE OREGON TRAll^. 

The next morning we saw an old buffalo bull escorting 
his cow with two small calves over the prairie. Close 
behind came four or five large white wolves, sneaking 
stealthily through the long meadow-grass, and watching 
for the moment when one of the children should chance 
to lag behind his parents. The old bull kept well on his 
guard, and faced about now and then to keep the prowling 
ruffians at a distance. 

As we approached our nooning-place, we saw five or six 
buffalo standing at the summit of a tall bluff. Trotting 
forward to the spot where we meant to stop, I flung off 
my saddle and turned my horse loose. By making a cir- 
cuit under cover of some rising ground, I reached the 
foot of the bluff unnoticed, and climbed up its steep 
side. Lying under the brow of the declivity, I prepared 
to fire at the buffalo, who stood on the flat surface above, 
not five yards distant. The gleaming rifle-barrel levelled 
over the edge caught their notice, and they turned and 
ran. Close as they were, it was impossible to kill them 
when in that position, and stepping upon the summit, 1 
pursued them over the high arid table-land. It was ex- 
tremely rugged and broken ; a great sandy ravine was 
channelled through it, with smaller ravines entering on 
each side, like tributary streams. The buffalo scattered, 
and I soon lost sight of most of them as they scuttled 
away through the sandy chasms ; a bull and a cow alone 
kept in view. For a while they ran along the edge of the 
great ravine, appearing and disappearing as they dived 
into some chasm and again emerged from it. At last 
they stretched out upon the broad prairie, a plain nearly 
flat and almost devoid of verdure, for every short grass- 
blade was dried and shrivelled by the glaring sun. Now 
and then the old bull would face towards me ; whenevei 
he did so I fell to the ground and lay motionless. Ir 



DOWN THE ARKANSAS. Ji61 

fchis ma.xixer I chased them for about two miles, until at 
length I heard in front a deep hoarse bellowing. A 
moment after, a band of about a hundred bulls, before 
hidden by a slight swell of the plain, came at once into 
view. The fugitives ran towards them. Instead of min- 
gling with tlie band, as I expected, they passed directly 
through, and continued their flight. At this I gave up 
the chase, crawled to within gun-shot of the bulls, and 
sat down on the ground to watch them. My presence did 
not disturb them in the least. They were not feeding, 
for there was nothing to eat ; but they seemed to have 
chosen the parched and scorching desert as their play 
ground. Some were rolling on the ground amid a 
cloud of dust; others, with a hoarse rumbling bellow, 
were butting their large heads together, while many 
stood motionless, as if quite inanimate. Except their 
monstrous growth of tangled grizzly mane, they had 
no liair ; for their old coat had fallen off in the springy 
and their new one had not as yet appeared. Sometimes 
an old bull would step forward, and gaze at me with a 
grim and stupid countenance ; then he would turn and 
butt his next neighbor ; then he would lie down and roll 
over in the dust, kicking his hoofs in the air. When 
satisfied with this amusement, he would jerk his head 
and shoulders u})ward, and resting on his forelegs, stare 
at mc in this position, half blinded by his mane, and his 
face covered with dirt ; then up he would spring upon all 
fours, shake his dusty sides, turn half round, and stand 
with his beard touciiing the ground, in an attitude of pro- 
found abstraction, as if reflecting on his puerile conduct. 
" You are too ugly to live," thought I ; and aiming at the 
ugliest, I shot three of them in succession. The rest 
were not at all discomposed at this ; they kept on bellow- 
ing, butting, and rolling on the ground as before. Henrj 



362 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

Chatillon always cautioned us to keep perfectly quiet in 
the presence of a wounded buffalo, for any movement is 
apt to excite liim to make an attack ; so I sat still upon 
the ground, loading and firing with as little motion as 
possible. While I was thus employed, a spectator made 
his appe& ranee : a little antelope came running up to 
within fift 7 yards ; and there it stood, its slender neck 
arched, its ^mall horns thrown back, and its large dark 
eyes gazing on me with a look of eager curiosity. By 
the side of the shaggy and brutish monsters before me, it 
seemed like some lovely young girl in a den of robbers or 
a nest of bear^'ed pirates. The buffalo looked uglier than 
ever. '* Here goes for another of you," thought I, feeling 
in my pouch for a percussion-cap. Not a percussion-cap 
was there. My good rifle was useless as an old iron bar. 
One of ihe wounded bulls had not yet fallen, and I waited 
for some time, hoping every moment that his strength 
would fail hiiT) He still stood firm, looking grimly at 
me, and disregarding Henry's advice, I rose and walked 
away. Many of the bulls turned and looked at me, but 
the wounded brute made no attack. I soon came upon a 
deep ravine which would give me shelter in case of emer- 
gency; so I turned round and threw a stone at the bulls. 
They received it with the utmost indifference. Feeling 
myself insulted at their refusal to be frightened, I swung 
my hat, shouted, and made a show of running towards 
them; at this they crowded together and galloped off, 
leaving their dead and wounded upon the field. As I 
moved towards the camp I saw the last survivor totter 
and fall dead. My speed in returning was wonderfully 
quickened by the reflection that the Pawnees were abroad, 
and that I was defenceless in case of meeting with an 
enemy. I saw no living thing, however, except two or 
three squalid old bulls scrambling among the sand-hills 



DOWN THE ARKANSAS. 363 

that flanked the great ravine. When I reached camp the 
party were nearly ready for the afternoon move. 

We encamped that evening at a short distance from 
the river bank. About midnight, as we all lay asleep on 
the ground, the man nearest to me, gently reaching out 
his hand, touched my shoulder, and cautioned me at the 
same time not to move. It was bright starlight. Open- 
hig my eyes and slightly turning, I saw a large white 
wolf moving stealthily around the embers of our fire, 
with his nose close to the ground. Disengaging my hand 
from the blanket, I drew the cover from my rifle, which 
lay close at my side ; the motion alarmed the wolf, and 
with long leaps he bounded out of the camp. Jumping 
up, I fired after him, when he was about thirty yards dis- 
tant ; the melancholy hum of the bullet sounded far away 
through the night. At the sharp report, so suddenly 
breaking upon the stillness, all the men sprang up. 
. " You've killed him," said one of them. 

" No I haven't," said I ; " there he goes, running along 
the river." 

" Then there's two of them. Don't you see that one 
lying out yonder ? " 

We went out to it, and instead of a dead white vrolf, 
found the bleached skull of a buffalo. I had missed my 
mark, and what was worse had grossly violated a stand- 
ing law of the prairie. Wlien in a dangerous part of the 
country, it is considered highly imprudent to fire a gun 
after encamping, lest the report should reach the ears of 
Indians. 

The horses were saddled in the morning, and the last 
man had lighted his pipe at the dying ashes of the fire. 
The beauty of the day enlivened us all. Even Ellis felt 
its influence, and occasionally made a remark as we rode 
along, and Jim Gurney told endless stories of his cruis- 



a 64 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

fngs in the United States service. The buffalo were 
abundant, and at length a large band of them went run- 
ning up the hills on the left. 

" Too good a chance to lose," said Shaw. We lashed our 
horses and galloped after them. Shaw killed one with each 
barrel of his gun. I separated another from the herd 
and shot him. The small bullet of the rifle-pistol strik- 
ing too far back did not immediately take effect, and the 
bull ran on with unabated speed. Again and again I 
snapped the remaining pistol at him. I primed it afresh 
three or four times, and each time it missed fire, for the 
touch-hole was clogged up. Returning it to the holster, 
I began to load the empty pistol, still galloping by the 
side of the bull. By this time he had grown desperate. 
The foam flew from his jaws and his tongue lolled out. 
Before the pistol was loaded he sprang upon me, and 
followed up his attack with a furious rush. The only 
alternative was to run away or be killed. I took to flight, 
and the bull, bristling with fury, pursued me closely. 
The pistol was soon ready, and then looking back I saw 
his head five or six yards behind my horse's tail. To 
fire at it would be useless, for a bullet flattens against the 
adamantine skull of a buffalo bull. Inclining my body to 
the left, I turned my horse in that direction as sharply 
as his speed would permit. The bull rushing blindly on 
with great force and weight did not turn so quickly. As 
I looked back, his neck and shoulder were exposed to 
view; and, turning in the saddle, I shot a bullet through 
them obliquely into his vitals. He gave over the chase 
and soon fell to the ground. An English tourist repre- 
sents a situation like this as one of imminent danger ; 
this is a mistake ; the bull never pursues long, and the 
horse must be wretched indeed that cannot keep out of 
his way for two or three minutes. 



DOWN THE ARKANSAS. 



365 



We were now come to a part of the country where we 
were bound in common prudence to use every possible 
precaution. We mounted guard at night, each man 
standing in his turn; and no one ever slept without 
drawing his rifle close to his side or folding it with him 
in his blanket. One morning our vigilance was stimu- 
lated by finding traces of a large Camanche encampment. 
Fortunately for us, however, it had been abandoned 
nearly a week. On the next evening we found the 
ashes of a recent fire, which gave us at the time some 
uneasiness. At length we reached the Caches, a place 
of dangerous repute; and it had a most dangerous 
appearance, consisting of sand-hills everywhere broken 
by ravines and deep chasms. Here we found the grave 
of Swan, killed at this place, probably by the Pawnees, 
two or three weeks before. His remains, more than once 
violated by the Indians and the wolves, were suffered at 
length to remain undisturbed in their wild burial-place. ^ 
For several days we met detached companies of Price's 
regiment. Horses would often break loose at night from 
their camps. One afternoon we picked up three of these 
stragglers quietly grazing along the river. After we came 
to camp that evening, Jim Gurney brought news that 
more of them were in sight. It was nearly dark, and a 
cold, drizzling rain had set in ; but we all turned out, and 
after an hour's chase nine horses were caught and brought 
in. One of them was equipped with saddle and bridle ; 
pistols were hanging at the pommel of the saddle, a car- 
bine was slung at its side, and a blanket rolled up behmd 
it. In the morning, as we resumed our journey, our cav- 
alcade presented a much more imposing appearance than 
ever before. We kept on till the afternoon, when, far 
behind, three horsemen appeared on the horizon. Com- 
ing on at a hand-gallop, they soon overtook us, and 



366 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

claimed all the horses as belonging to themselves and 
others of their company. They were of course given up, 
very much to the mortification of Ellis and Jim Gurney. 
Our own horses now showed signs of fatigue, and we 
resolved to give them half a day's rest. We stopped at 
noon at a grassy spot by the river. After dinner Shaw 
and Henry went out to hunt ; and while the men lounged 
about the camp, I lay down to read in the shadow of the 
cart. Looking up, I saw a bull grazing alone on the 
prairie more than a mile distant, and taking my rifle I 
walked towards him. As I came near, I crawled upon 
the ground until I approached to within a hundred yards ; 
here I sat down upon the grass and waited till he should 
turn himself into a proper position to receive his death- 
wound. He was a grim old veteran. His loves ^.nd his 
battles were over for that season, and now, gaunt and 
war-worn, he had withdrawn from the herd to graze by 
himself and recruit his exhausted strength. He was 
miserably emaciated ; his mane was all in tatters ; his 
hide was bare and rough as an elephant's, and covered 
with dried patches of the mud in which he had been wal- 
lowing. He showed all his ribs whenever he moved. He 
looked like some grizzly old ruffian grown gray in blood 
and violence, and scowling on all the world from his mis- 
anthropic seclusion. The old savage looked up when I 
first approached, and gave mo a fierce stare ; then he fell 
to grazing again with an air of contemptuous indifference. 
The moment after, as if suddenly recollecting himself, he 
threw up his head, faced quickly about, and to my amaze 
ment came at a rapid trot directly towards me. I was^ 
strongly impelled to get up and run, but this would have i 
been very dangerous. Sitting quite still, I aimed, as he 
came on, at the thin part of the skull above the nose, 
hoping tlat the shot might have the effect of turning him 



DOWN THE ARKANSAS. <^61 

A.fter he had passed over about three-quarters of the dis- 
tance between us, I was on the point of firing, when, to 
my great satisfaction, he stopped short. I had full op- 
portunity of studying his countenance ; his whole front 
was covered with a huge mass of coarse matted hair, 
which hung so low that nothing but his two forefeet were 
visible beneath it ; his short thick horns were blunted 
and split to the very roots in his various battles, and 
across his nose and forehead were two or three large 
white scars, which gave him a grim, and at the same 
time a whimsical appearance. It seemed to me that he 
stood there motionless for a full quarter of an hour star- 
ing at me through the tangled locks of his mane. For 
my part, 1 remained as quiet as he, and looked quite as 
hard. I felt greatly inclined to come to terms with Inm. 
^' My friend," thought I, " if you'll let me off, I'll let you 
off." At length he seemed to have abandoned any hostile 
design. Yeiy slowly and deliberately he began to turn 
about ; little by little his side came into view, all be- 
plastered with mud. It was a tempting sight. I forgot 
my prudent intentions, and fired my rifle ; a pistol would 
have served at that distance. The old bull spun round 
like a top, and galloped away over the prairie. He ran 
some distance, and even ascended a considerable hill, be- 
fore he lay down and died. After shooting another bull 
among the hills, I went back to camp. 

At noon, on the fourteenth of September, a very large 
Santa Fe caravan came up. The plain was covered with 
the long files of their white-topped wagons, the close black 
carriages in which the traders travel and sleep, large 
droves^'of mules and horses, and men on horseback and on 
foot. They all stopped on the meadow near us. Our di- 
minutive cart and handful of men made but an insignificant 
figure by the side of their wide and bustling camp. Te\^ 



868 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

Rouge went to visit them, and soon came back with half 
a dozen biscuit in one hand, and a bottle of brandy in 
the other. I inquired where he got them. " Oh," said 
Tete Rouge, " I know some of the traders. Dr. Dobbs is 
there besides." I asked who Dr. Dobbs might be. '' One 
of our St. Louis doctors," replied Tete Rouge. For two 
days past I had been severely attacked by the same dis- 
order which had so greatly reduced my strength when at 
the mountains ; at this time I was suffering not a little 
from pain and weakness. Tete Rouge, in answer to my 
inquiries, declared that Dr. Dobbs was a physician of the 
first standing. Without at all believing kim, I resolved 
to consult this eminent practitioner. Walking over to 
the camp, I found him lying sound asleep under one of 
the wagons. He offered in his own person but indifferent 
evidence of his skill, for it was five months since I had 
seen so cadaverous a face. His hat had fallen off, and 
his yellow hair was all in disoraer ; one of his arms sup- 
plied the place of a pillow ; his trousers were wrinkled 
half way up to his knees, and he was covered with little 
bits of grass and straw upon which he had rolled in his 
uneasy slumber. A Mexican stood near, and I made him 
a sign to touch the doctor. Up sprang the learned Dobbs, 
and sitting upright rubbed his eyes and looked about him 
in bewilderment. I regretted the necessity of disturbing 
him, and said I had come to ask professional advice. 

" Your system, sir, is in a disordered state," said he, 
solemnly, after a short examination. 

I inquired what might be the particular species of dis- 
order. 

" Evidently a morbid action of the liver," replied the 
medical man ; "I will give you a prescription." 

Repairing to the back of one of the covered wagons, he 
scrambled in ; for a moment I could see nothing of him 



DOWN THE ARKANSAS. 369 

but his boots. At length he produced a box which he had 
extracted from some dark recess within, and, opening it, 
presented me with a folded paper. " What is it? " said I. 
" Calomel," said the doctor. 

Under the circumstances I would have taken almost 
any thing. There was not enough to do me much harm, 
and it might possibly do good; so at camp that night I 
took the poison instead of supper. 

That camp is worthy of notice. The traders warned 
us not to follow the main trail along the river, ^' unless," 
as one of them observed, " you want to have your throats 
cut ! " The river at this place makes a bend ; and a 
smaller trail, known as '' the Ridge-path," leads directly 
across the prairie from point to point, a distance of sixty 
or seventy miles. 

We followed this trail, and after travelling seven or 
eight miles came to a small stream, where we encamped. 
Our position was not chosen with much forethought or 
military skill. The water was in a deep hollow, with 
steep, high banks ; on the grassy bottom of this hollow we 
picketed our horses, while we ourselves encamped upon the 
barren prairie just above. The opportunity was admirable 
either for driving off our horses or attacking us. After 
dark, as Tete Rouge was sitting at supper, we observed him 
pointing with a face of speechless horror over the shoulder 
of Henry, who was opposite to him. Aloof amid the dark- 
ness appealed a gigantic black apparition, solemnly swaying 
to and fro as it advanced steadily upon us. Henry, half 
vexed and half amused, jumped up, spread out his arms, 
and shouted. The invader was an old buffalo-bull, who, 
with characteristic stupidity, was walking directly into 
camp. It cost some shouting and swinging of hats before 
we could bring him first to a halt and then to a rapid 
i-etreat. 

24 



370 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

The moon was full and bright ; but as the black clouds 
chased rapidly over it, we were at one moment in light 
and at the next in darkness. As the evening advanced, 
a thunder-storm came up and struck us with such violence 
that the tent would have been blown over if we had not 
interposed the cart to break the force of the wind. At 
length it subsided to a steady rain. I lay awake through 
nearly the whole night, listening to its dull patter upon 
the canvas above. The moisture, which filled the tent 
and trickled from every thing in it, did not add to the 
comfort of the situation. About twelve o'clock Shaw 
went out to stand guard amid the rain and pitchy dark- 
ness. Munroe was also on the alert. When about two 
hours had passed, Shaw came silently in, and, touching 
Henry, called to him in a low quick voice to come out. 
" What is it ? " I asked. " Indians, I believe," whispered 
Shaw ; " but lie still ; I'll call you if there's a fight." 

He and Henry went out together. I took the cover 
from my rifle, put a fresh percussion-cap upon it, and 
then, being in much pain, lay down again. In about five 
minutes Shaw returned. " All right.' ^ he said, as he lay 
down to sleep. Henry was now standing guard in his 
place. He told me in the morning the particulars of the 
alarm. Munroe's watchful eye had discovered some dark 
objects down in the hollow, among the horses, like men 
creeping on all-fours. Lying flat on their faces, he and 
Shaw crawled to the edge of the bank, and were soon con- 
Tinced that these dark objects were Indians. Shaw silently 
withdrew to call Henry, and they all lay watching in the 
same position. Henry's eye is one of the best on the 
prairie. He detected after a while the true nature of 
the intruders ; they were nothing but wolves creeping 
among the horses. 
Tt is very singular that, when picketed near a camp, 



DOWN THE ARKANSAS. 371 

horses seldom show any fear of such an intrusion. The 
wolves appear to have no other object than that of gnaw- 
ing the trail-ropes of raw hide by which the animals are 
secured. Several times in the course of the journey my 
horse's trail-rope was bitten in twc by these nocturnal 
viaitors 



CHAPTER XXVU. 

THE SETTLEMENTS. 

nPHE next day was extremely hot, and we rode frosi. 
-*• morning till night without seeing a tree, a bush, or 
a drop of water. Our horses and mules suffered much 
more than we, but as sunset approached, they pricked up 
their ears and mended their pace. Water was not far 
off. When we came to the descent of the broad shallow 
valley where it lay, an unlooked-for sight awaited us. 
The stream glistened at the bottom, and along its banks 
were pitched a multitude of tents, while hundreds of cat- 
tle were feeding over the meadows. Bodies of troops, 
both horse and foot, and long trains of wagons, with men, 
women, and children, were moving over the opposite ridge 
and descending the broad declivity before us. These were 
the Mormon battalion in the service of government, to- 
gether with a considerable number of Missouri Volun- 
teers. The Mormons were to be paid off in California, 
and they were allowed to bring with them their families 
and property. There was something very striking in the 
half-military, half-patriarchal appearance of these armed 
fanatics, thus on their way with their wives and children, 
to found, it might be, a Mormon empire in California. 
We were much more astonished than pleased at the sight 
before us. In order to find an unoccupied camping- 
ground, we were obliged to pass a quarter of a mile up 
the stream, and here we were soon beset by a swarm of 



THE SETTLEMENTS. 373 

Mormons and Missourians. The United States officer in 
command of the whole came also to visit us, and remained 
some time at our camp. 

In the morning the country was covered with mist. 
We were always early risers, but before we were ready, 
the voices of men driving in the cattle sounded all around 
us. As we passed above their camp, we saw through the 
obscurity that the teiits were falling, and the ranks rap- 
idly forming ; and, mingled with the cries of women and 
children, the rolling of the Mormon drums and the clear 
blast of their trumpets sounded through the mist. 

From that time to the journey's end, we met almost 
every day long trains of government wagons, laden with 
stores for the troops, crawling at a snail's pace towards 
vSanta F^. 

Tete Rouge had a mortal antipathy to danger, but one 
evening he achieved an adventure more perilous than had 
befallen any man in the party. The d^y after we left the 
Ridge-path we encamped close to the river, and at sunset 
saw a train of wagons encamping on the trail, about three 
miles off. Though we saw them distinctly, our little cart, 
as it afterward proved, entirely escaped their notice. • Foi 
some days Tete Rouge had been longing for a dram of 
whiskey. So, resolving to improve the present oppor- 
tunity, he mounted his horse '' James," which he had ob- 
tained from the volunteers in exchange for his mule, slung 
his canteen over his shoulder, and set out in search of hig 
favorite liquor. Some hours passed without his returning, 
We tliought that he was lost, or perhaps that some stra} 
Indian had snapped him up. While the rest fell asleep ] 
remained on guard. Late at night a tremulous voice 
saluted me from the darkness, and Tete Rouge and James 
soon became visible, advancing towards the camp. TqU. 
Rouge was in much agita,tion and big with important tid- 



374 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

ingg. Sitting down on the shaft of the cart, he told the 
following story : — 

When he left the camp he had no idea, he said, how 
late it was. By the time he approached the wagoners it 
was perfectly dark ; and as he saw them all sitting around 
their fires within the circle of wagons, their guns laid by 
their sides, he thought he might as well give warning of 
his approach, in order to prevent a disagreeable mistake. 
Raising his voice to the highest pitch, he screamed out in 
prolonged accents, " camp ahoy ! " This eccentric saluta- 
tion produced any thing but the desired effect. Hearing 
such hideous sounds proceeding from the outer darkness, 
the wagoners thought that the whole Pawnee nation were 
upon them. Up they sprang, wild with terror. Each man 
snatched his gun ; some stood behind the wagons ; some 
threw themselves flat on the ground, and in an instant 
twenty cocked muskets were levelled full at the horrified 
Tete Rouge, who just then began to be visible through 
the gloom. 

" Thar they come," cried the master wagoner ; " fire, 
fire, shoot that feller." 

"No, no ! " screamed Tete Rouge, in an ecstasy of 
fright ; " don't fire, don't ; I'm a friend, I'm an Ameri- 
can citizen ! " 

'' You're a friend, be you," cried a gruff voice from 
the wagons ; " then what are you yellin' out thar for 
like a wild Injun. Come along up here if you're a man." 

" Keep your guns p'inted at him," added the master 
wagoner, '* maybe he's a decoy, like." 

Tete Rouge in utter bewilderment made his approach, 
with the gaping muzzles of the muskets still before his 
eyes. He succeeded at last in explaining his true charac- 
ter, and the Missourians admitted him into camp. He gol 
no whiskey ; but as he represented himself as a great 



THE SETTLEMENTS. 375 

invalid, and suffering much from coarse fare, they made 
up a contribution for him of rice, biscuit, and sugar from 
their own rations. 

In the morning at breakfast, Tete Rouge once more 
related this story. We hardly knew how much of it to 
believe, though after some cross-questioning we failed 
to discover any flaw in the narrative. Passing by the 
wagoner's camp, they confirmed Tete Rouge's account in 
every particular. 

" I wouldn't have been in that feller's place," said one 
of them, " for the biggest heap of money in Missouri." 

A day or two after, we had an adventure of another 
sort with a party of wagoners. Henry and I rode for- 
ward to hunt. After that day there was no probability 
that we should meet with buffalo, and we were anxious 
to kill one, for a supply of fresh meat. They were so 
wild that we hunted all the morning in vain, but at noon 
as we approached Cow Creek we saw a large band feeding 
near its margin. Cow Creek is densely lined with trees 
which intercept the view beyond, and it runs, as we after 
wards found, at the bottom of a deep trench. We ap- 
proached by riding along the bottom of a ravine. When 
we were near enough, I held the horses while Henry crept 
towards the buffalo. I saw him take his seat within 
shooting distance, prepare his rifle, and look about to 
select his victim. The death of a fat cow seemed certain, 
when suddenly a great smoke and a rattling volley of 
musketry rose from the bed of the creek. A score of long- 
legged Missourians leaped out from among the trees and 
ran after the buffalo, who one and all took to their heels 
and vanished. These fellows had crawled up the bed of 
the creek to within a hundred yards of the game. Never 
was there a fairer chance for a shot. They were good 
marksmen ; all cracked away at once and yet not a buf 



37b THE OREGON TRAIL. 

falo fell. In fact the animal is so tenacious of life that it 
requires no little knowledge of anatomy to kill it, and it 
is very seldom that a novice succeeds in his first attempt 
at approaching. The balked Missourians were excessively 
mortified, especially when Henry told them that if they 
had kept quiet he would have killed meat enough in ten 
minutes to feed their whole party. Our friends, who were 
at no great distance, hearing the fusillade, thought that 
the Indians had fired the volley for our benefit. Shaw 
came galloping on to reconnoitre and learn if we were 
yet among the living. 

At Cow Creek we found the welcome novelty of ripe 
grapes and plums, which grew there in abundance. At 
the Little Arkansas, not much farther on, we saw the last 
buifalo, a miserable old bull, roaming over the prairie 
melancholy and alone. 

From this time forward the character of the country 
was changing every day. We had left behind us the 
great arid deserts, meagerly covered by the tufted buffalo- 
grass, with its pale green hue, and its short shrivelled 
blades. The plains before us were carpeted with rich 
herbage sprinkled with flowers. In place of buffalo we 
found plenty of prairie-hens, and bagged them by dozens 
without leaving the trail. In three or four days we saw 
before us the forests and meadows of Council Grove. It 
seemed like a new sensation as we rode beneath the re- 
sounding arches of these noble woods, — ash, oak, elm, 
maple, and hickory, festooned with enormous grape-vines, 
purple with fruit. The shouts of our scattered party, and 
now and then the report of a rifle, rang through the 
breatliless stillness of the forest. We rode out again with 
regret into the broad light of the open prairie. Little 
more than a hundred miles now separated us from the 
frontier settlements. The whole intervening country was 



THE SETTLEMENTS 377 

a succession of green prairies, rising in broad swells and 
relieved by trees clustering like an oasis around some 
spring, or following the course of a stream along some 
fertile hollow. These are the prairies of the poet and 
the novelist. We had left danger behind us. Nothing 
was to be feared from the Indians of this region, the Sacs 
and Foxes, Kanzas and Osages. We had met with rare 
good fortune. Although for fi^e months we had been 
travelling with an insufficient force through a country 
where we were at any moment liable to depredation, not 
a single animal had been stolen from us, and our only 
loss had been one old mule bitten to death by a rattle- 
snake. Three weeks after we reached the frontier, the 
Pawnees and the Camanches began a regular series of 
hostilities on the Arkansas trail, killing men and driving 
off horses. They attacked, without exception, every 
party, large or small, that passed during the next six 
months. 

Diamond Spring, Rock Creek, Elder Grove, and other 
'camping places besides, were passed in quick succession. 
At Rock Creek we found a train of government provision- 
wagons under the charge of an emaciated old man in his 
seventy-first year. Some restless American devil had 
driven him into the wilderness at a time of life when 
he should have been seated at his fireside with hi? 
grandchildren on his knees. I am convinced that he 
never returned ; he was complaining that night of a 
disease, the wasting effects of which upon a younger 
and stronger man, I myself had proved from severe ex- 
perience. Long before this no doubt the wolves have 
howled their moonlight carnival over the old man's at- 
tenuated remains. 

Not long after we came to a small trail leading to Fort 
Leavenworth, distant but one day's journey. Tete Rouge 



J57tf THE OREGON TRAIL. 

here took leave of us. He was anxious to go to the fort 
in order to receive payment for his valuable military ser- 
vices. So he and his horse James, after an affectionate 
farewell, set out together, with what provisions they could 
conveniently carry, including a large quantity of brown 
sugar. On a cheerless rainy evening we came to our last 
'camping ground. 

In the morning we mounted once more. In spite of 
the dreary rain of yesterday, there never was a brighter 
autumnal morning than that on which we returned to the 
settlements. We were passing through the country of 
the half-civilized Shawanoes. It was a beautiful alterna- 
tion of fertile plains and groves just tinged with the hues 
of autumn, while close beneath them nestled the log- 
houses of the Indian farmers. Every field and meadow 
bespoke the exuberant fertility of the soil. The maize 
stood rustling in the wind, ripe and dry, its shining yel- 
low ears thrust out between the gaping husks. Squashes 
and huge yellow pumpkins lay basking in the sun in the 
midst of their brown and shrivelled leaves. Robins and 
blackbirds flew about the fences, and every thing be- 
tokened our near approach to home and civilization. The 
forests that border the Missouri soon rose before us, and 
we entered the wide tract of bushes which forms their 
outskirts. We had passed the same road on our outward 
journey in the spring, but its aspect was now totally 
changed. The young wild apple-trees, then flushed with 
their fragrant blossoms, were hung thickly with ruddy 
fruit. Tall grass grew by the roadside in place of tender 
shoots just peeping from the warm and oozy soil. The 
vines were laden with purple grapes, and the slender 
twigs of the swamp maple, then tasselled with their clus- 
ters of small red flowers, now hung out a gorgeous dis- 
play of leaves stained by the frost with burning crimson 



THE SETTLEMENTS. 379 

On every aide we saw tokens of maturity and decay where 
all had before been fresh with opening life. We entered 
the forest, checkered, as we passed along, by the bright 
spots of sunlight that fell between the opening boughs. 
On either side rich masses of foliage almost excluded the 
sun, though here and there its rays could find their way 
down, striking through the broad leaves and lighting 
them with a pure transparent green. Squirrels barked 
at us from the trees ; coveys of young partridges ran 
rustling over the fallen leaves, and the golden oriole, the 
blue-jay, and the flaming red-bird darted among the shad- 
owy branches. We hailed these sights and sounds of 
beauty by no means with unmingled pleasure. Many 
and powerful as were the attractions of the settlements, 
we looked back regretfully to the wilderness behind us. 

At length we saw the roof of a white man's dwelling 
between the opening trees. A few moments after, we 
were riding over the miserable log-bridge that led into 
Westport. Westport had beheld strange scenes, but a 
rougher looking troop than ours, with our worn equip- 
ments and broken-down horses, was never seen even 
there. We passed the well-remembered tavern, Boone's 
grocery, and old Yogel's dram-shop, and encamped on a 
meadow beyond. Here we were soon visited by a number 
of people who came to purchase our horses and equip- 
ments. This matter disposed of, we hired a wagon and 
drove to Kanzas landing. Here we were again received 
under the hospitable roof of our old friend Colonel Chick, 
and seated under his porch we looked down once more 
on the eddies of the Missouri. 

Deslauriers made his appearance in the morning, 
strangely transformed by a hat, a coat, and a razor. His 
little log-house was among the woods not far off. It 
seems he had meditated giving a ball in honor of his 



380 THE OREGON TRAIL. 

return, and had consulted Henry Cliatillon, as to whether 
it would do to invite his bourgeois. Henry expressed his 
entire conviction that we would not take it amiss, and the 
invitation was now proffered accordingly, Deslauriers 
adding as a special inducement that Antoine Lajeunesse 
was to play the fiddle. We told him we would certainly 
come, but before evening the arrival of a steamboat from 
Port Leavenworth prevented our being present at the 
expected festivities. Deslauriers was on the rock at the 
landing-place, waiting to take leave of us. 

'' Adieu ! mes bourgeois, adieu ! adieu ! " he cried, as 
the boat put off; " when you go another time to de Rocky 
Montagues I will go with you ; yes, I will go ! " 

He accompanied this assurance by jumping about, 
swinging his hat, and grinning from ear to ear. As the 
boat rounded a distant point, the last object that met our 
eyes was Deslauriers still lifting his hat and skipping 
about the rock. We had taken leave of Munroe and Jim 
Gurney at Westport, and Henry Chatillon went down in 
the boat with us. 

The passage to St. Louis occupied eight days, during 
about a third of which time we were fast aground on 
sand-bars. We passed the steamer Amelia crowded with 
a roaring crew of disbanded volunteers, swearing, drink- 
ing, gambling, and fighting. At length one evening we 
reached the crowded levee of St. Louis. Rej)airing to 
the Planters' House, we caused diligent search to be made 
for our trunks, which were at length discovered stowed 
away in the farthest corner of the store-room. Li the 
morning, transformed by the magic of the tailor's art, 
we hardly recognized each other. 

On the evening before our departure, Henry Chatillon 
came to our rooms at the Planters' House to take leave 
of us. No one who met him in the streets of St. Louis 



THE SETTLEMENTS. 381 

would have taken him for a hunter fresh from the Rocky 
Mountains. He was very neatly and simply dressed in a 
suit of dark cloth ; for although since his sixteenth year 
he had scarcely been for a month together among the 
abodes of men, he had a native good taste which always 
led him to pay great attention to his personal appearance. 
His tall athletic figure with its easy flexible motions 
appeared to advantage in his present dress ; and his fine 
face, though roughened by a thousand storms, was not 
at all out of keeping with it. He had served us with a 
fidelity and zeal beyond all praise. We took leave of him 
with regret ; and unless his changing features, as he shook 
as by the hand, belied him, the feeling on his part was 
no less than on ours. Shaw had given him a horse at 
Westport. My rifle, an excellent piece, which he had 
always been fond of using, is now in his hands, and 
perhaps at this moment its sharp voice is startling the 
echoes of the Rocky Mountains. On the next morning 
we left town, and after a fortnight of railroads, coaches, 
and steamboats, saw once more the familiar features of 
home. 



University Press : John Wilson & Son, Cambridge. 



Francis Parkman's Works 

NOW COMPLETE. 



COMPRISING The Conspiracy of Pontiac, 2 vols.; The Oregon 
Trail, i vol. ; France and England in North America, 9 vols., 
viz: I. Pioneers of France in the New World, i vol. ; II. The 
Jesuits in North America, i vol.: III. La Salle and the Discovery 
of the Great West, i vol. ; IV. The Old Regime in Canada under 
Louis XIV., I vol. ; V. Count Frontenac and New France under 
Louis XIV., I vol.; VI. A Half-Century of Conflict, 2 vols.; VII. 
Montcalm and Wolfe, 2 vols. Illustrated with numerous Maps, 
Portraits, etc. 

Library Edition. 12 vols. 8vo. Cloth, I30.00. 
Half calf, extra, gilt top, $54.00. Half morocco, extra, gilt 
top, $54-oo. 

Popular Edition. 12 vols. i2mo. Cloth, $18.00. 
Half calf, extra, gilt top, $36.00. Half morocco, extra, gilt 
top, $36.00. 
The publication of Mr. Parkman's latest work, " A Half-Century of Con- 
flict," completes his great series of historical narratives, making them form 
a continuous history of the efforts of France to occupy and control the 
American continent. The author had for the scenes of his great historical 
pictures the whole United States and Canada, from Quebec to Florida and 
Louisiana, and from Massachusetts to the great Western Frontier. 

Each work of the series has been received with the utmost favor both 
by press and public, at home and abroad ; and no historian of the century 
can be said to have received higher praise than Mr. Parkman, — praise 
which a reading of his works amply confirms. His " Conspiracy of Pontiac 
and the Indian War after the Conquest of Canada " (a sequel in point of 
time to " France and England in North America " ) was pronounced by 
Prof. John Fiske " o)ie of the most brilliant a)id fascinating books that has ever 
been written by any historian since the days of Herodotus.''' 

The co7npletion of this history is an event that should awaken interest wherever 
historical genitis can be appreciated. Since Prescott, Motley, and Bancroft, Fran- 
cis Parkman alone has thoroughly sustained American reputation in this f eld. He 
has not only sustained but has measurably increased that reputation, for his work 
ranks with the most brilliant and lasting historical tmdertakings that have marked 
the past fifty years. The charm of his narrative is not greater than his scholar- 
ship ; the rare importance of his theme not greater thatt the sustained interest with 
which he has carried it forward to completion. — New York Times. 



FRANCIS PARKMAN'S WRITINGS, 




As fascinating as any of Scoffs novels. — Boston Pilot. 

Easily the first of living American historians. — Christian Advocate. 

Mr. Parkman's descriptions of Indian life are Jinsurpassed by anything of the 
kind. — Boston Advertiser. 

His place is alongside of the greatest historians whose works are English classics. 
London Athencemn. 

In vigor and pointedness of description, Mr. Parkman may be counted stiperior to 
Irving. — Nezv York Tribune. 

Mr. Parkman's sketches of lake and forest scenery, in the glory of summer or in 
the gloom of winter, are of exquisite beauty. — /. Baring Gould. 

Excels, in the qualities of aji historian, all Americans who have written history, 
and all authors ivho have tvritten American history. — New York Methodist. 

A subject which Mr. Parkman has made as much his own as Motley the Dutch 
Republic; or Macaulay the English Revolution. It is to the pages of Mr. Parkman 
that we must go for the American Indian. — George William Curtis. 

Each actor in the scene is his friend or foe ; he has taken musty records, skeletons 
of facts, dry bones of barest history, and breathed on them that they might live. — 
The Spectator. 

We know of few historical writers who combine such rare gifts as this American 
author. In his attention to minute incidents, he reminds us often of Dean Stanley; 
often, also, in his vivid portraiture, of Lord Macaulay. — /. Bari7ig Gould, Author of 
" Curious Myths of the Middle Ages,^'' etc. 

It is possible that the historian of the last quarter of the nineteenth century in 
America will find few events more notable than the cotnpletioji of the work of Mr. 
Francis Parkman. . . . Mr. Parkmati belongs distinctly to the class of learjied 
historical scholars who are also skilful a)id charming writers. — Note on the 
completion of Mr. Parkman'' s Work, Edward Eggleston, in November " Century,^'' 

Mr. Parkman'' s familiarity with the scenery of his narratives is so intimate, 
his memory of the eye is so vivid, as almost to persuade us that ourselves have seen 
what he describes. — fames Russell Lowell in Century Magazine. {The last piece 
of writing prepared by him for publication. — Editor of the Century.) 



FRANCIS PARKMAN'S WRITINGS. 



Separate Vohi?>ies of Pajkinaii's IVorks. 

Any of Mr. Parkman's Histories can be had apart from the 
whole set, either in tlie Library or Popular Edition, as follows: 

FRANCE AND ENGLAND IN NORTH AMERICA. 

This great series of Historical Narratives, the publication of which began 
in 1864 and wa^ finished in 1S92, after long and arduous labor and research, 
is divided by the author into seven distinct works. He describes his sub- 
ject in the Preface to the initial work, " Pioneers of France," as " the 
attempt of Feudalism, Monarchy, and Rome " to obtain the mastery of the 
American continent, the rise and growth of North America, and the con- 
flict of nations, races, and principles for its mastery. 

I. Pioneers of France in the New World. I Huguenots 
in Florida. II. Chaniplain and his Associates. (France and 
England in North America. Part P^irst.) By Francis Parkman. 
With a steel Portrait of Menendez and Maps of Florida in 1565, 
and the Route of Champlain in 161 5 and 1616. 

Library Edition. 8vo. Cloth, $2.50. 

Popular Edition. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 

A revised edition with additions, and information acquired during a 
special visit to Florida. 

Adventure on the grandest scale. — Atlantic Monthly. 
. An addition to American history of incalculable value. — Philadelphia hiqiiirer 

II. The Je.suits in North America in the Seventeenth 
Century. (France and England in North America. Part 
Second.) By Francis Parkman. With a Map of the Country of 
the Hurons. 

Library Edition. 8vo. Cloth, $2.50. 
Popular Edition. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
"Few passages of history," writes Mr. Parkman in the Preface, "are 
more striking than those which record the efforts of the earlier French 
Jesuits to convert the Indians. Full as they are of dramatic and philo- 
sophic interest, bearing strongly on the political destinies of America, and 
closely involved wdth the history of its native population, it is wonderful 
that they have been left so long in obscurity." 

Mr. Parkman's narrative constantly attests the fidelity, as well as the zeal, with 
which he has examined his authorities. — Nejv York Tribune. 

In interest this work (" Pioneers of France") exceeds any novel which has been 
published during the year. — Boston Transcript. 



FRANCIS PARKMAN'S WRITINGS. 



III. La Salle and the Discovery of the Great West. 
(Prance and England in North America. Part Third.) By 
Francis Parkman. New Edition, revised, with Additions. With 
Maps of the Countries traversed by Marquette, Hennepin, and 
La Salle, and La Salle's Colony on the Illinois, from the Map of 
Franquelin, 1684. 

Library Edition. 8vo. Cloth, $2.50. 
Popular Edition. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 

This volume embodies the exploits and adventures of the first European 
explorers of the Valley of the Mississippi; the efforts of the French to 
secure the whole interior of the Continent ; the attempt of La Salle to find 
a westward passage to India ; his colony on the Illinois ; his scheme of 
invading Mexico ; his contest with the Jesuits ; and his assassination by 
his own followers. 

A classic in the library of American history. — New York Tribune. 

To the dwellers in this region of the Northwest Mr. Parkman's book will be 
peculiarly acceptable, giving as it does in truthful, graphic detail, the early history of 
their own homes, — Detroit Free Press. 

IV. The Old Regime in Canada. (France and England in 
North America. Part Fourth.) By Francis Parkman. With a 
Map of Canada and adjacent Countries toward the close of the 
Seventeenth Century. 

Library Edition. 8vo. Cloth, $2.50. 
Popular Edition. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 

The influences which controlled the colony in its beginning and during its first 
century of life — the Roman Catholic mission spirit, and the monarchical ambition of 
Louis XIV. — are delineated in character and operation with remarkable skill. — The 
Literary World. 

V. Count Frontenac and New France under Louis XIV 
(France and England in North America. Part Fifth.) By 
Francis Parkman. With Map of Canada. 
Library Edition. 8vo. Cloth, $2.50. 
Popular Edition. i2nio. Cloth, $1.50. 
Under the rule of Frontenac occurred the first serious collision of the 
great rival Powers. . . . The present volume will show how valiantly, and 
for a time how successfully. New France battled against a fate which her 
own organic fault made inevitable. Her history is a great and significant 
drama, enacted among untamed forests, with a distant gleam of courtly 
splendor and the regal pomp of Versailles." — Preface. 

It reads like romance, but romance of a high order. — Providence Press. 



FRANCIS PARKMAN'S WRITINGS. 



VI. A Half-Century of Conflict. (France and England in 
North America. Part Sixth ) By Francis Parkman. 

Library Edition. 2 vols. 8vo. Cloth, $5.00. 

Popular Edition. 2 vols. i2mo. Cloth, $3.00. 
This new work, upon which the author has been engaged for several 
years, completes his histories, the seventh and final work in the series in 
chronological order, " Montcalm and Wolfe" having been published in 1884. 
The period covered by "A Half-Century of Conflict" is 1700 to 1748, the 
second volume closing with the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle. 

Like others of his works, it reads in many places Uke fiction, and is indeed most 
dehghtfiil reading. — Boston Advertiser. 

No one who takes up the two volumes will lay them down without feeling that he 
has iiad an unusual, delightful, and substantial literary feast. — Boston Gazette. 

He tells the story in a style peculiarly his own, — masterly, graceful, picturesque, 
without any over-abundance of words, brilliant and fascinating. His readers are 
legion, and every one who reads is instructed. — Magazine of American History. 

VII. Montcalm and Wolfe. (France and England in North 
America. Part Seventh.) By Francis Parkman. With Por- 
traits of Montcalm and Wolfe, and Maps of the British Colonies 
and Northern New France in 1750- 1760, Acadia with adjacent 
Islands in 1755, the Region of Lake George from surveys made 
in 1762, Siege of Fort William Henry, Siege of Louisburg, State 
of the Country round Ticonderoga, the Siege of Quebec in 
1759, 3^^"^d Sketches of the Field of Battle at Braddock's Defeat, 
July 9, 1755. 

Library FLdition. 2 vols. 8vo. Cloth, I5.00. 
Popular Edition. 2 vols. i2mo. Cloth, $3.00. 

The period covered by this work is 1 748-1 763. 

" The names on the title page," says the author, " stand as representative 
of the two nations whose final contest for the control of North America is 
the subject of the book. A very large amount of unpublished material has 
been used in its preparation, consisting for the most part of documents 
copied from the archives and libraries of France and England. . . . Great 
numbers of autograph letters, diaries, and other writings of persons engaged 
in the war have also been examined on this side of the Atlantic." 

A book which will take its place as a masterpiece in military history. — The 
Nation. 

He has presented a wealth of new information with startling freshness and 
realism. — New York Tribune. 

It is only now that we find ourselves in possession of an authentic, full, sus- 
tained, and worthy narrative of those momentous events and extraordinary men. — 
Macmillan'' s Magazine 



FRANCIS PARKMAN'S WRITINGS. 



The Conspiracy of Pontiac and the Indian War 
AFTER THE CONQUEST OF CANADA. By Francis Parkman. 
New Edition, revised, with Additions. With Maps of the Forts 
and Settlements in America in 1763, Fort and Settlements of 
Detroit in 1763, the Country on the Ohio and Muskingmn Rivers, 
and the Illinois Country, with part of the River Mississippi. 
Library Edition. 2 vols. 8vo. Cloth, $5.00. 
Popular Edition. 2 vols. i2mo. Cloth, $3.00. 
This work was originally published in a single volume ; but as it forms 
a sequel to the series of historical narratives, " France and England in 
North America," upon the publication of the sixth edition, a large amount 
of additional material having come to light, it was enlarged to two volumes, 
uniform with the series referred to above. 

The most satisfactory historical monograph that our literature has produced. — 
The Nation. 

A fascinating narrative of one of the most pregnant episodes in American history. 
Westminster Reviezv. 

Exactly such incidents as make the materials in the most delightful of Cooper's 
novels. — London Athenceuvi, 

The Oregon Trail. Sketches of Prairie and Rocky Moun- 
tain Life. By Francis Parkman. New edition, revised. 
Library edition. 8vo. Cloth, $2.50. 
Popular edition. i2mo. Cloth, $1.50. 
Illustrated edition. 8vo. Decorated covers, $4.00. 
These sketches are of peculiar interest, not only for the purpose which 
led to their being written, but because they reflect certain forms and con- 
ditions of life which have ceased to exist. 

Has something of the interest that hangs about pioneer stories, or old legends, or 
Cooper's novels. — Toledo Blade. 

Tlie most entertaining book of Indian travel — modern Indian travel, we mean — 
extant. — The Literary World. 

PARKriAN'S HANDBOOK OF THE NORTHERN TOUR. 

Historic Handbook of the Northern Tour. Lakes 
George and Champlain; Niagara; Montreal; Quebec. By 
Francis Parkman. Illustrated with Maps of Lake George, Siege 
of Fort William Henry, the Country round Ticonderoga, and the 
Siege of Quebec; Portraits of Montcalm and Wolfe, and Repro- 
ductions of Champlain's Fight with the Iroquois (drawn by him- 
self), and Hennepin's Ricture of Niagara. i2mo. Paper, $1.00. 
Cloth, $1.50. 
Selections from Parkman's histories, with explanatory passages. 



FRANCIS PARKMAN'S WRITINGS. 



PARKMAN'S OREGON TRAIL. A New Illustrated 
Edition, with Pictures of Indian Life by the Cele= 
brated Artist Frederic Remington. 

The Oregon Trail. Sketches of Prairie and Rocky Moun- 
tain Life. By Francis Parkman. With yy Illustrations by 
Frederic Remington, including numerous full-page Plates ; also a 
new Introductory Preface by the author. Svo. Decorated 
covers. $4.00. 

Contexts: I. The Frontier; II. Break- 
ing the Ice; III. Fort Leavenworth; IV. 
"Jumping Off"; V. The Big Blue; VI. 
The Platte and the Desert; VII. The 
Buffalo; VIII. Taking French Leave ; IX. 
Scenes at Fort Laramie ; X. The War 
Parties; XI. Scenes at the Camp; XII. 
Ill Luck; XIII. Hunting Indians; XIV. 
The Ogillalah Village; XV. The Hunting 
Camp; XVI. The Trappers; XVII. The 
Black Hills; XVI 1 1. A Mountain Hunt; 
XIX. Passage of the Mountains; XX. 
The Lonely Journey; XXI. The Pueblo 
and Blat's Fort; XXII. Tete Rouge, the Volunteer; XXII I. 
Indian Alarms; XXIV. The Chase; XXV. The Buffalo Camp: 
XXVI. Down the Arkansas ; XXVII. The Settlements. 
This ever popular book for young and old describes a journey among 
the Indian Camps and the Rockies by the eminent historian in 1847. Its 
vivid descriptions of a condition of country and of Indian life now passed 
away are made still more fascinating by Mr. Remington's striking pictures 
of Indian settlements, camps, implements, buffalo hunts, trappers, etc. 

Mr. Remington's mastery of this class of illustrations has for years been shown in 
many ways. His art is well represented here. — New York Times. 

The book is one which should be given to the half-grown boys all over the land. 
They will like it, and it is most healthy reading for them. — Boston Courier. 

Mr. Remington's pictures have all the artist's known fire and skill. His Indians 
are real Indians, and his graphic scenes of wild life both interpret and enrich a valuable 
text. — Boston Journal. 

One of Mr. Parkman's greatest works. . . . We have as a charming auxiliary to 
the text innumerable illustrations by Frederic Remington, the greatest of all artists in 
delineating Western life. — Public Opinion. 

This superb new edition, illustrated by the artist ivho has got nearest to the truth 
of Indian life, and who, as Mr. Parkman says, ''■ kneiv the prairies and the 
mountains before irresistible commonplace had subdued them,^'' will secure it a 
permanent place in every American library. — Philadelphia Times. 




FRANOIS PARKMAN'S WRITINGS. 



PARKflAN LEAFLETS. 

Prose Passages from the Works of Francis Parkman. 
For Homes, Libraries, and Schools. Compiled by Josephine E. 
Hodgdon, Editor of the Longfellow, Whittier, Holmes, Bryant, 
Prescott, and Motley Leaflets. With Illustrations. Large 
i2mo. Paper, 50 cents, tiel. 

This is ^n important addition to the well-known " Leaflet " Series. The 
" Leaflet " plan in general is the outgrowth of practical work in the class- 
room. Its utility and adaptation to the needs and wants of pupils has been 
abundantly proved. No better plan has ever been devised to make young 
people familiar with the best thoughts and sentiments of our standard 
literature. 

The " Parkman Leaflets " consist of such choice selections from the 
writings of America's brilliant historian as are specially adapted to school 
use and home reading. His works have been pronounced as fascinating as 
any of Scott's novels, and young people take delight in reading this great 
master of picturesque narration. 

The leaflet form has been found to enlist the hearty interest of pupils, 
and greatly to facilitate the work of the teacher in preparing various 
school exercises, prominent among which are reading at sight, silent read- 
ing, language lessons, declamations, study of the author's meaning and 
language, short quotations in answer to the daily roll-call. 

The " Parkman Leaflets " loill be 7)iailcd to any address on receipt of the 
price. Special rates will be made for school introduction. 

Teachers and Students of American history can congratulate themselves that they 
can get so many good things from Parkman's writings in this little pamphlet. — 
Chicago Intelligencer. 

Boys particularly will find just the vivid and exciting narrative which they most 
enjoy, and which is here healthy historic readmg instead of mere sensationalism. — 
Journal of Education. 

LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY, 

Publishers, 
254 WASHINGTON STREET, BOSTON. » 




